Ruined For Life: Blogspot

Life Updates

2007-11-09T00:19:00.000-08:00

Not going to spend time with the usual, "haven't blogged in awhile" stuff. Not even going to promise I'll be blogging every week starting now. Just felt inspired to write a bit here, much like I'm occasionally inspired to take a shower every month or two (whether I need it or not). What can I say? We love living here.

For those of you that don't know, our day-to-day situation has changed somewhat. I'm actually working for Pepperdine again, in what has turned out to be a wonderful blessings of circumstances. Starting this past August, I assumed the role of Project Director for the Shanghai International Program; that's right, we happened to move to the location of Pepperdine's next full-time international program. So far, everything has been wonderful; the work is very enjoyable, and I have a wonderful Chinese coworker, Huiliang (William). We've been busy meeting with potential partner universities here in Shanghai, looking for properties to locate the Pepperdine facility, and even made a recruitment trip back to Malibu in September to promote the program (visit ShanghaiWaves.com to see the site I put up for the program, and the recruitment video I made, which gives a good glimpse into the city here). Not doing language classes anymore, but am doing private tutoring 3 times a week for 2 hours, which I am enjoying more at this point.

Part of the experience of living overseas (especially in a culture that does not speak your native tongue) is the reality of surrendering to your agenda on any given day. Not everything is unpredictable, of course, but things are inevitably more complicated to do for a variety of reasons. Buying clothes is more than spending money; it is a decision to use a decent amount of energy in speaking a new language, bargaining with a person that gives you a special 'foreign-devil' price, and choosing whether it is worth the effort to comparison shop to save a few bucks. Even language itself is a daily lesson in discipline and humility; in order to grow, you have to work hard, fumble through new words and sound stupid until it becomes natural, then start over with new material the next day. And then in my case, you get to go back and be stupid all over again after you've forgotten the lessons from your humiliation the week before. There is surrender involved. A surrender of pride, a surrender of many little things you didn't realize gave you stability or confidence or comfort in your former surroundings, and a surrender of your agenda to make things happen in a certain way. This is what defines what God is teaching me lately; as a good friend of mine has says back in the US:

"The greatest freedom in this kingdom is from the tyranny
of your own desires, agendas and plans."

How true I think that is, and how freeing indeed.

Blessings to you all, wherever you are. I'll try to hang out here a bit more often!

I'm Kind of a Big Deal... People Know Me (In Shanghai)

2007-02-24T18:15:00.000-08:00

Well, we made it to Shanghai just fine, and three weeks later are basically settled into our new apartment (a 13th floor 3br. 2ba. with great balcony views), and almost adjusted to our 4 hours of Mandarin class every day. As many of you know, we fled the United States to escape from the spotlight of US media coverage - like so many before us (TomKat, Brangelina, and CarrotTop ...) we were known as "Coch" (Corrie/Chris) in the tabloids. The hole we left was, of course, immediately filled by Vidaham (David and Victoria Beckham), who soon became the new victims of larger-than-life stardom. All we wanted was a calm, peaceful, and secluded life in rural Shanghai, where we could roam amidst 21 million people without being recognized. We should have known better...

Channel 'Young' (I don't actually know the Chinese name) decided to do a feature on us - sort of an official "China loves and welcomes the Van Velzers" news clip. They came to our apartment, and we decided it would be best to invite a few friends over (including Charlie "Chuck" Engelmann, who we have sort of hired as our Manny to open our front door, etc.). We should have known that fame knows no borders - that every language knows the word 'superstar' - and that being international celebrities is in our blood, not just our stylish clothes, ridiculous contribution to pop culture, and totally unfounded political opinions.

So, I decided to make this blog a first for Ruined For Life - a VanVideo Blog. You'll have to excuse the quality of the video from the program - I had to film the TV with our video camera, which causes massive problems with flickering. We've seen ourselves on TV so many times, it just wasn't worth buying a digital recorder for such a small segment.

With any luck, by the time you have finished reading this, the video below will have mostly preloaded (depending on your internet speed, although it is a beefy download). I also took the liberty of adding some subtitles, so that our Western friends could understand all of the Chinese. If you do know Chinese, you might pick up something in the program about "interviewing foreigners" and "seeing what they do for Chinese Spring Festival" - but that's just because the Chinese words for those phrases sound exactly like, "interviewing international superstars Chris and Corrie."
I'm going to go comfort Corrie now - she has been so overwhelmed by the media attention that she broke down and shaved her head yesterday, and got a tattoo of an armadillo and an eggplant on her forehead. I hope you enjoy!

(Note: the real story behind this video is that China is fascinated with foreigners in general, especially foreigners living in China. A friend of Chuck's called him to see if he and some foreigner friends could do a quick segment on what foreigners do for 'Spring Festival' - the Chinese New Year, which has been going on all week (blog to come on that later). We filmed it at our place, since we are fortunate enough to have a pretty big kitchen and apartment. I think just about every foreigner in China has to be on Chinese television at least once as the token 'wai guo ren' (lit: outside-country person, or foreigner). We just got our opportunity sooner than later!)

Totally Unspiritual Post: Learning Chinese

2007-01-27T07:48:00.000-08:00

In anticipation of our move to Shanghai, I have been working hard on making sure I have some basic phrases down, and I thought that I would share some of those with you here. In learning any language, you really want to make sure that you've always got the basics covered - especially since meeting people tends to be comprised of the exact same conversation - something like, "Good to meet you. My name is Chris. I am American. Did you know your squatty potty is overflowing? Yes, that is what smells." There are lots of other useful phrases though, some of which people don't think of. If you only memorize the basics, it can be very limiting in early conversations.

Although many people think Mandarin is very hard to learn, it's really not. In fact, if you memorize the list below, you too can master the basics we have been working on. Don't worry about tones - although they communicate meaning in Mandarin, these phrases would be very difficult for a Chinese person not to understand. Just say them as it feels right, and you should be fine.

"That's not right"
= "Sum Ting Wong"

"Are you harboring a fugitive?"
= "Hu Yu Hai Ding"

"See me ASAP."
= "Kum Hia Nao"

"Small Horse..."
= "Tai Ni PoNi"

"Did you go to the beach?"
= "Wai Yu So Tan"

"I bumped into a coffee table."
= "Ai Bang Mai Dam Ni"

"I think you need a face lift."
= "Chin Tu Fat"

"It's very dark in here."
= "Wai So Dim"

"I thought you were on a diet."
= "Wai Yu Mun Ching"

"This is a tow away zone."
= "No Pah King"

"Our meeting is scheduled for next week."
= "Wai Yu Kum Nao"

"Staying out of sight."
= "Lei Ying Lo"

"He's cleaning his automobile."
= "Wa Shing Ka"

"Your body odor is offensive."
= "Yu Stin Ki Pu"

"Do I speak clearly?"
= "Wai Yu La Fa"

I hope this has been helpful for you. We will be in Shanghai in about 72 hours, and covet your conversations with Dad!

The Comings and Goings of Life

2007-01-20T22:47:00.000-08:00

Okay, so blogging has been really, really non-existant. It's not that I've had nothing to write about in China - on the contrary, there has been a lot happening here. But the longer it's been since I last posted a blog entry, and life stacks up more and more - until before you know it, the pressure of your "I'm baaaaack" blog builds like a stomach full of mentos doused with a few big gulps of soda. So don't expect anything great or incredible from this entry - it's just me forcing myself to break the ice after a long, unintentional break.

So we live in Hong Kong. Well, we live in Hong Kong for another week. On January 30th, we move to Shanghai - where we will be as long as God has us there, as long as God is thinking 3-5 years like we are. The last 5 months here have been an absolute whirlwind; Mandarin classes every day, living with the Zacharias, going from a hyper-active social life with friends to a basically non-existant one. The hardest challenge has been the feeling of 'being neither here nor there' - we primarily came to Hong Kong first to have a unique time with the family, and to get to know Kylee Ming - who became our sister in August (or 150 sleeps, as she would say in broken, but really good English). But knowing that we were going to be moving to Shanghai in 5 months wasn't much motivation for getting 'plugged in' to a social scene here - which, although different, was also kind of refreshing. Although we miss our friends and family in the States tremendously, we are really looking forward to putting some roots down, and really starting to form an identity of 'our own lives' in Shanghai.

Life is again, about to change dramatically - and we'll be bumping up our study schedule from 2 hours a day to 4 hours a day - including studing Hanyu characters. We'll have an apartment of our own, which we need to find and move into with 5 days, which is when our classes start. We're enrolled at a language school that is affiliated with a University, which is good, but also means we will have very few vacations between now and June. Our speaking is coming along well, but living in Shanghai will dramatically improve our confidence and practical conversation skillset within the first few months, and be the key for foundational fluency within the somewhat foreseeable future. Once we've settled into our study-schedule, we'll start working part-time; there are a few opportunties we'll choose between when we get there.

It really is strange to think of what our life was like 6 months ago, and what it will be like in another 6 months. I am constantly amazed at the way Father uses everything - and I mean everything - to teach us, and bring us closer in our relationship.

So that's the update. Now I can start posting on random, deep, or other topics without feeling like they'd be inappropriate to post out of the blue. Hope life is treating you well, wherever you are.

The Church I Know...

2006-10-03T00:14:00.000-07:00

I think by now we can all acknowledge that I'm a slacker when it comes to posting on my blog here. No, no - don't try to defend me... it's true. If it makes you feel any better, I will spend at least 2 hours tonight verbally flogging myself with really difficult Mandarin words. If that doesn't make up for it, then either this posting will, or it REALLY won't. A little over a week ago, a friend and I launched TheChurchYouKnow.com. It is the project that has been sucking up all of my creative web energy that would normally go into RuinedForLife... and I think that although this site has suffered lately for it, it was worth the wait.

Even as I post this, I am a little "nervous" doing so. I don't mean 'nervous' in the sense that my armpits are sweating and my bowels are preparing for the usual 'fight or flight - but first let me drop a load' response. I mean I'm a little... self-consciously nervous. Allow me to explain...

I know there are many people that read this site that I don't at all. I don't care about you. (I'm just kidding - c'mere, and gimme a hug). Then there are those that have stalked me my whole life and caused me to flee to Hong Kong for safety. But then, there are a lot of people (like, at LEAST 4 and a half people) that I do know personally, whether as a friend or family member. Many in this latter category (though not all) attend a local church service regularly. You'll understand more when you visit the site, but although I wish I could say that I've talked with each of you personally about some of my loves and frustrations with 'church life,' I haven't. This site definitely has some videos that are on the border of irreverance (and some might even say they are way past the border, enjoying a Corona somewhere in southern Mexico...). I guess at the end of the day, I want those people to know I still love and respect you and where God has you, even if you don't relate to this site at all - and as you know me for who I am, if we haven't been able to talk about these specific things, it's not because I had anything to hide... it just doesn't always comme up in the course of hanging out.

To the people that I haven't had a chance to talk with about some of these issues personally, I guess I would say that if we get the chance, or if you have any questions, I'd love to at any time. I'd recommend starting with a good look at the 'credo' page of the site before you watch the videos, as this is really where the heart behind our content is described. I'm not anti-church. And if you know me, you certainly know I'm pro-Jesus. But I do want to see the larger Church changed into a greater likeness of Christ... and these videos highlight just a few of the issues that I have come to take with what man has added to a relationship with God. Maybe I'm being overly paranoid, since we really have recieved an overwhelmingly positive response to the site and videos. But just in case it catches anyone off guard, I wanted to explain it to those that know me personally first.

Hope you enjoy... and if you don't, I hope the site will at least lead us to a conversation and discussion that draws us closer to Him. I have faith that despite my occasional irreverent humor, He is more than able to allow whatever is good to bear it's fruit, and whatever is bad to fall off the tree and into irrelevance.

P.S.: I would also say that if you're inclined, I'd recommend posting something in the forum on the site and joining the discussion there, as I think there is some potential for great discussion to take place on some of these issues.

From China, With Love

2006-08-19T05:57:00.000-07:00

Wherever they may find you, these words are originating somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, in between the two continents that hold virtually all of my past, and much of my future. Things have been slow on the website for the past month and a half (and by slow, I mean slow like watching a video in slow motion of molasses running down the back of a turtle. In the North Pole.) Everything has been given away, prepared for storage, or packed into our four suitcases – carefully planned not to exceed the designated Asian weight limit unit of “one elephant”. We have said our goodbyes to many, many people. We have changed our addresses, sold and donated our cars, trained our work replacements, and left Pepperdine University, which has been home for longer than any other place I have lived. And we have answered the question, “why are you moving to China” approximately one quintillibillion times, which, as anyone who has studied theoretical math knows, is almost twice as much as a bazillion, and four times as much as the number of news reports about Mel Gibson’s meltdown 3 miles away from our now former home.

Life has been busy since my last update. For one, just over a week ago, we met our new sister for the first time; her name is Kylee, and boy is she a firecracker. Kylee was adopted through fully miraculous circumstances by Corrie’s parents; she will be six in just a few weeks, is from central China, and, because she speaks mostly Mandarin still, is able to scream in each of Mandarin’s four tones – rising, falling, biting, and ear-drum-splitting. Honestly though, I can already tell that she is an exceptional kid – and she has handled the transition from orphanage to BIG family very well.

As I have mentioned in previous blogs, Corrie and I have finally completed our move to China; we will be living with the Zacharia pack in Hong Kong for the fall – in part to have a soft landing in China and a bonding experience with Kylee and the Zacharia family, and in part to begin our goal of becoming fluent in Mandarin (which we will be working on for the next several millennia). Granted, Hong Kong isn’t exactly the perfect place to be getting our start in Mandarin, as it is a Cantonese speaking city, but it’ll do for stupid beginners who currently only know Chinese phrases like, “Kung Pao” and “Knee How Maw.” In the spring, we will make another move – to a large, and yet undetermined major Chinese city – more than likely Shanghai. From there we plan on starting our own empire of Panda Express franchises, which, shockingly, no one has thought of doing in China.

There is a lot that we don’t know right now. Frankly, I’ve never had so much peace and confidence in a decision that entails so little information at this point. At the end of the day, God is with us – right here, right now. As strange as it feels, it is incredibly exciting not to know all the answers, or have a fully formed comfort zone, or to be able to ask the man next to me whether he prefers to fold or scrunch his toilet paper (currently, my attempts to communicate this question through the international language of charades is only being met with nervous stares.) We’ll be studying Mandarin for at least the next year full-time, but beyond that – the world is literally wide open. Well, China is, at least – which is 1/5th of the world. So here’s to the future, my friends, and – as a dear friend of mine would say – life abundant, with abandon.

How Do I Respond To Pain, Redux

2006-06-22T17:54:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I'm sitting in the airport in Nashville, TN. - on a much longer layover than I expected, en route to St. Louis. And of course, gnawing on my conscience like a rat on a cheeto is the fact that I haven't done a post to RFL since (insert incredibly witty statment here that makes you think, "God, it was worth reading this post just for that!").

So I'm pulling the ultimate blogger no-no; I am about to complete the web equivalent of spitting your gum out on the sidewalk in Singapore, or buying a Kevin Federline album. I'm reposting a blog from almost a year ago.

I know. But in my defense, I don't think most of my current readers take the time to go alll the way back to read my early stuff, and frankly, I had some good early stuff that I still think about and process from time to time. The problem was, my early stuff was read by RFL's two unique visitors at the time - namely, myself and Andrew Brumme, and now sits buried under over a year's worth of other postings. Here's the deal though: now that RFL has over 2,000 unique visitors a month, I would actually like to expand this posting with your help.

In the later part of the blog, there are some listings for different knee-jerk euphamisms or responses to the experience of pain in other people's lives... now is your chance to add the stock responses and an appropriate name in the comments section! I know there are more readers now... but I have such a totally suck-ass comment scene. So if you read with any regularity - now is your chance to be known. Include your name and where abouts you're hailing from... even if you can't think of anything legitimate to post. Example:

I'm Chris and I'm from Malibu... holla. Been with RFL from the beginning. Great stuff. Here is a response I have heard often...
"The Nut-Smasher: Who know's what God is doing with all this crap you're experiencing [friend kicks you in the groin] - but I'll bet that takes your mind off of it for awhile!"

Make sense? Then without further ado, here is the repost of "How Do I Respond To Pain.":
-------------------
Saturday, I had a conversation with a good friend about some of his recent frustrations. He is in a job right now that is really not fulfilling to him, and feels stuck and unable to move forward in really pursuing the vocation he feels called to. For the better part of a year, he and his wife have been praying that God would provide some new work opportunity, or open the door to something else. Adding to the problem, his current job is relatively far away from home, and moving is not really an option, unless it is to a new job that is going to be able to financially provide for his family.

Although he has been researching and making calls on other opportunities that are more in line with the career he wants to pursue, about a month and a half ago he was contacted by someone whom he had given his resume a while back. The job itself was almost perfect: it was within 10 minutes of home, a move in line with his dream career, a good environment with Christians, and they had contacted him! The hitch was that the position was currently slated to be part-time, and thus could not provide financially unless it was restructured to be full-time. In talking with the organization, my friend was told to put together a proposal for making the position full-time position (and detailing what he would do with it), and last week, the "powers that be" had a meeting to review funding the position as such.

Many of us have been in a situation like this before - maybe not with a job, but with something else that we desperately want God to do. Then, after a long and patient wait, it seems that He is moving on our prayers! We watch with amazement as "divine circumstances" and prayers seem to finally intersect, and wonder at how God could so masterfully weave the improbable with reality. Often, as the fulfillment of the desire gets closer and closer, we feel affirmed in our hearts and spirits, and even can feel like God is confirming that this is what He wants for us. For example, my experience came when I was 14 and waiting to come out of puberty... or, uh... waiting for a friend to come out of puberty. But I digress.

Sometimes, He does confirm his word, and it happens. Other times, however, everything falls through at the last minute when everything seemed like it was all but in the bag. Or even worse... the object of our desire stalls just short of cresting that last hill, and rolls back further than it came in the first place. In my friend's case, everything seemed to be going swimmingly until he received a message on his answering machine: "Some new things came up, and we've filled the position internally."

After over a year of waiting, and coming so close to something that seemed so right on so many levels, one has to ask: “Why God?” Why tease me with this? Why bring something so close, only to have it not work out? Why not just let me keep praying until You are ready to bring it to fruition? Is this even what You want for me? I thought this is what You were saying... I thought You were leading me to this? What gives?

This is really not very different from any type of painful event in our lives – whether a deep desire is kept from us, or a good thing in our life is suddenly taken away or ruined – health, relationship, a home. All of us have been there for something.There are several responses that I have heard over the years in situations like this, and often times, if you share the issue with enough people, you’ll hear each at least once! Among the favorites:

The Cinderella: You may think that you've lost the prince forever and that joy was just a fool's dream, but God's about do something even more amazing in your life! Just wait!

The Joshua: You can see the Promised Land... just claim it in faith man! It's yours if you just keep marching around those walls and believe. Claim it! Pray even more!

The Moses: Maybe there is something in your life that is keeping you from "entering in" to God’s promises. Perhaps God wants you to deal with some sin in your life, and keep you in the desert for awhile. Do you have any idols in your life that you’re not letting go of? This may feel hard, but it's mercy, really- it’s good for you.

The Ying-Yang: Look, everything has a purpose. You can't understand it, but you've just got to believe that everything has a balance and works itself out in the end.

The Eve: We live in a fallen world. This wasn't God - it was the product of sinful people making decisions in sin. It wasn't "meant to happen"- they messed up. Or you did.

The Beelzebub: Satan is really attacking you right now. He’s out to mess up this great work of God; rebuke the enemy! Bind him, and you’ll see the breakthrough. (By the way, it usually doesn’t hurt to “bind him” many, many times over. And don’t forget to cast him to either the outer darkness, or to the feet of Jesus.)

The Green-Thumb: God just wants to grow you. You are maturing as I watch you- amazing! Praise Him for hardship and suffering!

The Avoider: Well, I’ll be praying for that. What’s the score?

I’d be willing to bet that most people have heard all of these responses at some point. Obviously, I’m poking fun at some of them, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I think they are all heretical or way off base (even though, if you notice, some of them blatantly contradict one another).

I’ll be up front now in saying that I’m digging myself into a hole I don’t know how to climb back out of. If you’re going to be disappointed that this article doesn’t have a quaint “wrap-up” at the end that explains the answers in a few verses of scripture, then get ready to be… well, disappointed. What is the right “response” in a situation like this? If we have not yet faced them ourselves, surely, we have been with others that have. What do you say to…

…someone who has given years of work for a Godly purpose, only to see the effort erased in a moment
…a parent whose child does not and may never have a relationship with God
…a friend whose spouse leaves them for another lover
…a relative who is ridden for life with physical pain from a simple, senseless accident?

Even as I write them, responses instinctively pop into my head (most of which, ironically, I just poked fun at above). These responses sometimes seem adequate when we hear them from a friend or comfort ourselves with them. But in my experience, the deeper the pain, the less these explanations fill the nagging, haunting void of “why,” as much as they do distract us from facing the question. Each response either tries to explain the event, or illuminate what we need to do from here – because if we can understand it as having a purpose, or if we can act to fix it, then somehow, the pain is easier to bear. Understanding and action help us to feel some amount of control over the pain, which in turn, makes it seem less painful. In many Christian circles, the only heretical answer is, “who knows” – because it simultaneously implies that God is capriciously loving and cruel, and that we are not close enough to Him to know His intentions.

But is it ok not to have a response? It is possible to simply share the burden? Is it enough to understand, and fearlessly acknowledge the simplicity of frustration or the gravity of devastation – to mourn (not pontificate) with those who mourn? If the question remains, “Why did this happen,” is it ok for the answer to simply be, “I don’t know?” The flaw seems to be in the question. Perhaps “why” isn’t important at all. The most we can acknowledge is what we do not and may never understand, but in spite of it ask, “Father, what do you want to show me in this? Who are You?” If relationship is what Father longs for, then “why” usually will only distract us from really approaching “who.” All explanations seem so inadequate next to simply sharing the pain, and sharing the journey that is designed at every turn to lead us to that relationship. I may never be able to answer the “why” – either for you or myself – but I can share the pain without having a way to control it or justify it, and I can run, or walk, or crawl with you towards knowing Him. And that might just be enough.

My Mockingbird Obsession

2006-05-23T16:29:00.000-07:00

Every once in awhile, I hear an album or musician that I become obsessed with. Usually, the obsession escalates into outright fanaticism over the following weeks or months. We've all been there. It starts with an "I luv (enter their name here)" tattoo on your butt cheek, and ends in police car outside of said musician's home where you were digging through their trash, hoping to find some personal artifact, or maybe a Nair strip with some of their hai... uh, well, I've heard some people get pretty intense about it. Anyway, that obsession for me, of late, has been Derek Webb's "Mockingbird" album.

I'm not going to take hours and hours to write a lengthy review of the album, but let me just say, it really is worth your time. It's like a good steak that you can just chew, and savor, and all throughout the saliva and chewing more and more flavor comes out, until finally your head explodes with sensory overload. I've listened to this album way too much, but I'm amazed at the things I still get out of it, or am still pondering. It's not that it's the most amazing music I've ever heard, but more that the lyrical content of some of his songs have themes I connect with very deeply.

Some songs from this album are in the stereo system in the menu above - so settle down, hit play, and enjoy.

A word of advice: one of my favorite songs, "A New Law" - will be much easier to understand the first time around if you know in advance it's sung sarcastically - as a commentary on the way so many followers of Christ forsake their freedom for security and control of a new system of rules.

Great lines to listen for:
In 'A New Law':
Don't teach me about moderation and liberty - I prefer a shot of grape juice...
In 'King and a Kingdom':
There are two great lies that I've heard: 1) The day you eat of the fruit of that tree, you will not surely die, 2) and that Jesus Christ was a white, middle class Republican, and if you want to be saved you have to learn to be like him...
-and-
My first allegiance is not to a flag, a country, or a man. My first allegiance is not to democracy or blood - it's to a King and a Kingdom.

Sing on, brother - sing on. Hope you enjoy.
P.S.: While the music in the Living Room can be listened to temporarily while I've got it up, you can't download it for a reason. I strongly believe in putting your money to things that are worthwhile, so that those things continue to reproduce. If you like Derek, pick up "Mockingbird" here.

'Phishing' and the Betrayal of Carpzilla

2006-05-16T17:14:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in the photo album post, I just returned from a week's vacation at the Zacharia Lakehouse in northern California. It was a great vacation, all things told - three of my good friends, Andrew Brumme, Jonathan Bakewicz, and Rob Garey decided that before some major shifts in our lives take place, it would be a unique opportunity to get away for a whole week of fellowship and fun together. Besides a lot of fishing, eating, and water-sporting, there were a few other adventures worth mentioning...

Phishing for A Site Shutdown
First, as many of my readers probably noticed, Ruined for Life had a little vacation of its own for about 5 days... and it wasn't paid vacation either. As life would have it, some moron hacked into my domain space and uploaded a phishing scam for a bank in Australia... I received an e-mail while on vacation explaining that a fraudulent site was in operation at my domain address, and that its intent was clearly criminal in nature. Being in a relatively remote place, I got to deal with it via a dial-up (also known as "please shoot me in the face") internet connection. I was able to respond within a few hours, deleted the files, and contacted the bank's IT Security team back, as well as my own host, StartLogic. Although I consider myself fairly technologically savvy, I have no idea how this was accomplished. Perhaps the hacker guessed my password, which had formerly been, "HackersHaveSmallTesticlesOnTheirForehead" - and incidentally, was formerly the password for all my bank accounts. Good thing I changed it, I guess... Anyway, it took several days (too long, in my opinion) for StartLogic to conclude that I was obviously too smart for something so stupid, and they restored my site to its full glory. Thanks for hanging in there...

So Dark The Con of Carp...
The other tale relates to an event that took place at the lake. Let me try to be brief with this one: we fished a lot at the lake. Jonathan and I, arguably, are the two best fisherman amongst us, although Andrew and Rob gave a gallant effort. By Thursday of the week, our us-lake/win-loss record (ie, fish caught vs. lost or escaped) went something like: Chris: 10-2, Jonathan: 8-3, Andrew: 1-0, Rob: 0-5. Rob caught a catfish early on. It escaped from the stringer. Rob caught another one later... but we only found out AFTER we realized it had broken the pole holder and pulled the pole into the lake with it. It was sad. Everyone hurt in their hearts for Rob. I mean, even Andrew had caught a fish. But not Rob....

So around Wednesday or Thursday night, Jonathan were in the small boat fishing. We had only been out 30 minutes or so, and had already caught 2 fish, and miraculously, the fishing pole that Rob had lost to one of his catfish. Jonathan had just pulled in the biggest bass he had ever caught - a very nice size - and Andrew yells from the shore, "Guys, Rob just caught the biggest fish ever! You have to see it - it's like a 20 pound carp!" We were skeptical, but hopeful. We paddled in to the dock, and sure enough, there was a carp, roughly the size of a wooly-mammoth, with Rob standing over it. We estimated it to weigh over 20 pounds, since I can bench lift Andrew (who weighs 15lbs) and I couldn't even lift the carp with Jonathan's big-gun arms spotting me.
Jonathan and I were thrilled. Here was Rob, with a dismal fishing record, having caught the biggest "middle finger to all those who doubted me" fish of the year. It was huge, and we were already recounting the stories we would all tell to our grandchildren as I took the carp back to the lake to release him (carp is not good eating). Since he had been out of the water for about 10 minutes at this point, he was hurting... and although I think its gills were about one generation away from evolving into human lungs, I had to really work with him to snap back once in the water. We watched him slowly swim into the depths of the lake, and made our way inside for dinner.

About an hour later, after I had e-mailed my in-laws with the story, after we had put the picture of Rob on the desktop of the computer, etc. - Andrew proposed a toast to Rob, the fisherman of the week. We all heartily agreed. And then Rob said, "Andrew, isn't there something you want to tell Jonathan and Chris...?"

Andrew proceeded to describe how Rob had not actually "caught" the fish by himself, but rather, another boat of fishermen had snagged it by the neighbor's dock. As they were passing, about to throw it back into the lake, Andrew called out and asked if they could keep it to "show their friends." They drove the boat up to the dock, passed the fish over, and went on their way.

Needless to say, Jonathan and I were fairly disappointed - even hurt. We had hoped that beyond all odds, Rob had been able to make a catch of the year. As the story unfolded, we really hold Rob mostly innocent, as the idea of passing it off as Rob's catch was Andrew's idea, as was the decision to tell us over an hour later instead of just after we had released it. The loss of our excitement was bitter, like I imagine urine would be if I ever had to taste it.

So, if you're inclined to tell Andrew how you feel about this travesty, feel free to drop him a line at the Brumme.com Contact Page. Hackers of the world, you may also feel free to hack into Brumme.com next time you wish to post a fraudulent Phishing scam, as I feel that would be appropriate retribution in this matter.

My Jive with RIVE

2006-04-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

After some planning, Ruined for Life will be trying out a little experiment with a Christian clothing company, RIVE. (Just think of 'jive' when you say 'RIVE,' and you won't get the pronunciation wrong.) RIVE originally contacted me because they wanted to manufacture a 'Ruined for Life' line of men's Speedos, which would be produced 3 sizes smaller than advertised as sort of a joke, and to actually ruin the lives of the people that wore them or saw them being worn. I passed on the Speedo offer, but said a 'Ruined for Life' t-shirt might be really sweet. They laughed.

Basically, RIVE is a new-ish clothing company that has hip, edgy, Christian themes - not of the WWJD... FAKB variety (i.e. What Would Jesus Do... For a Klondike Bar). There are 5 basic reasons I like these guys - whom I'll introduce via interview in a moment:

1) The clothes are genuinely cool - and rely on artistic quality to attract attention, as opposed to a generic or obnoxious, "Don't Blame Jesus for Sending You to HELL" type message. Just check them out... you'll know what I mean.
2) Each t-shirt design gives 10% of it's proceeds to a different charity of the designer’s choice. Did I mention you should buy the Ruined for Life Speedo for your loved one (coming soon)?
3) They partner with ethical, socially conscious manufacturers. That means there may be a premium, but you can be assured it's great quality, and not keeping a kid out of school and in a factory somewhere.
4) They are featuring Ruined for Life in their RIVE blog sections, because they want their site to be sort of a center for Christian-based media and engaging content, which of course, goes with Ruined for Life like sizzle does steak.
5) They are giving me and my wife a free t-shirt. And a new house (by the way guys, can you send us the escrow papers when you get a chance?).

So, you can find RFL over at RIVE, and you'll be able to hop on over to RIVE using the nifty button I've put in the left-bar links. Essentially, we're just saying, "hey, you - you with all that awesomeness. Let's let our awesomenesses make some babies" - without some of the implications that might normally imply. Who knows where it will go...

Who is behind RIVE? Adam Zarlengo and Tuck Ross. I had the chance to meet up with these brothers at Chili's, where the Spirit is always thick (both in the 'Holy' sense, and the 'byproduct of a gastrointestinal process' sense). I put them through the usual, rigorous interview, so that my readers would get a feel for who they were. [Note: due to a coke being spilled on the notepad where I took notes from this interview, some answers may reflect my best attempt to remember the subtle nuances in the wording of their answers. In order to maintain the highest journalistic integrity, I noted anything that was from memory alone in italic typeface].

Q: Where were you born?
(Adam): In a hospital.
(Tuck): The bathroom sink. Just over there.

Q: How old are you guys?
(Tuck): Purple, with shades of chartruse.
(Adam): Yes. Probably.

Q: What do you do with RIVE?
(Adam): I handle all of the shouting, laughing, business development, and punctuation.
(Tuck): Mostly, I like to draw pictures of monkeys. But these monkeys are gifted illustrators, that draw clothing designs. Monkeys are so talented?
(Adam): Tuck, I told you not to put question marks at the end of statements. LEAVE THE PUNCTUATION TO ME!!! HAHHH HAH HAHHH HA!
(Tuck): ...
(Adam): HAHA! Ha! Ha.

[awkward silence...]

Q: What is RIVE trying to do/be, exactly? What is the premise behind the company?
(Tuck): We want to be an edgy, monkey friendly, relevant, Christian speedo line - with clothes that are bold and wedgie resistant, but without judgment.
(Adam): I think there are a lot of people out there that would love to wear a Christian speedo line of clothing, but not dumb stuffed animals. We want to be the premiere Christian underground brand - and our tithe design is to make sure we're giving back meaningfully in a way that doesn't involve stealing or ultimate cagefighting. Not that there is anything wrong with cagefighting.
(Tuck): Holla.

Q: Have you ever considered a Christian burlap lingerie line? I've got some really great ideas. I feel like scratchy/sexy is really in right now...
(Tuck and Adam): Brilliant, just brilliant, etc. We'll make it happen, etc.

Q: Great, great. In a perfect world, where would you see RIVE in 5 years?
(Tuck): It depends on whether or not time travel has been invented yet.
(Adam): I'd probably answer differently. But beyond that - maybe a Christian media company that encompasses music, media, and apparel - and that is welcoming and loving of people who enjoy nude knitting.

So hop on over to RIVE, and say hello to some new friends, and maybe even buy a shirt or twelve. And, if enough of you send in requests... MAYBE I'll allow the RFL Speedo to go into production.

Press Release

2006-04-01T10:22:00.000-08:00

HONG KONG - Official notice was served to Chinese authorities last week to expect a long-awaited shipment of Van Velzers in August. Following the announcement, spontaneous public celebration echoed throughout major metropolitan areas in mainland China.

"We are thrilled," commented Hu Jintao. "The Van Velzers are hot like Kung Pao Chicken right now, and China welcomes them with open arms."
---
I realized it's been a "somewhat slow" two months for the old blog (ironically, they have been my best months yet in terms of unique visitors... maybe people are trying to tell me NOT to blog...). In my defense, however, the last months have been full of at least 10,000 trips out of town, a ridiculously busy work schedule, an unsuccesful attempt to be the first man to circumnavigate the globe on a camel, and probably one of the biggest life decisions my wife and I have had to make yet in our relatively young, married lives- answering the call to move to China this fall. The e-mails have been sent out at work, and it's official - we'll be leaving for Hong Kong the second week of August, and we'll be in Beijing by January after that.

This has been coming for a long time - and after a lot of prayer, fasting, and magic-8 ball consultation, it is finally here. Although it will be bittersweet to lose close physical proximity with our friends, families and coworkers, we couldn't be more convinced that this is the right decision if it came up and bit on the bottom us in a warm, fuzzy kind of way.

It's a bittersweet decision. We really do have almost everything we could want out of life here. We've got friends and family close by. We've got a spiritual community that we love. We have great, fulfililng jobs with coworkers who are associates but also sincere friends. We have an ocean view at work and home every day. Throw in an Xbox, toilets, and showers, and we've got it fully made. But that's just it - although it is our decision, it's clearly what God has for us in this next season of our lives.

What will we be doing, you ask? We'll be staying with Corrie's fam in Hong Kong for the first four months in order to get to know who will be our newly adoped sister from China (much more on this in future blogs - but this is the main reason we are going to Hong Kong first, instead of straght to Beijing). We'll be studying Mandarin full-time starting in Hong Kong, and continue in Beijing. After that, we'll do whatever we feel led to do - might be teaching, might be business, might be finally launching our own bourgeoise clothing line of burlap-lingere named "Chaffe" (with a french-ish accent on the end, pronounced chah-fee"). The possibilities are endless... especially in China.

I can't tell you how excited we are - not because we expect it to be an idyllic adventure in a foreign land - but because we know it's exactly where we're being led. It's the excitement of not knowing what is in store other than the fact that we are Known by the One that matters - and as such, we couldn't be in better hands. So feel free to pray with us, especially that we'll make the transition to Chinese toilets quickly and 'without incident.'

I'm back, and I'll be blogging again. Thanks for hanging in there. (And thanks to those of you who have dropped my a line via the mailbox and who I have been too retarded not to take 5 minutes to respond to in the last few months - I'll be e-mailing you soon!)

XXXchurch Has Balls (Literally)

2006-02-16T16:37:00.000-08:00

Up front, I have to apologize; it's my second busiest week annually at work, and blogging has been on the back burner. A much needed trip to Minneapolis for a guy's weekend didn't help much for the site either. The good news is, I'm about to push through the web-equivalent of a Venti and Oat-Prune Muffin on all of my backlogged blogs, which have some hearty (and high-fiber) content.

The first (and overdue) blog involves my opportunity two weeks ago to introduce and have lunch with Craig Gross, cofounder of XXXchurch.com - which touts itself as being the #1 Christian Porn site. Craig spoke at Pepperdine's convocation series, which is kind of like a big, weekly chapel - with less incense and more Starbucks. I may be assuming too much that most of my readers have heard of XXXchurch before; they boast an impressive 60 million visitors annually, and amidst much acclaim and controversy, are clearly a dominant voice in the church in dealing with pornography-related issues. No, they aren't a porn site... they are a ministry that provides help to men and women who struggle with/are addicted to pornography, and who take a genuine message of hope to those in the adult entertainment industry.

There are a lot of directions I could go with this, but I'm learning the bonuses of brevity in my blogging maturity: these guys are legit, and I think their approach and ministry is nothing short of fantastic. Are they perfect? Naw. Will you agree with all of their approaches? I can probably guarantee you won't. But I think they are getting a lot more right than wrong, and in my book, that's a lot better than keeping silent, or shouting obscenities at folk "caught up in sin" from the sidewalk pulpit. What I was most struck by in my conversations with Craig is their focus on loving people without an agenda. They share Jesus with people - which I believe is a way of showing love to someone - BUT they don't have a problem meeting folks where they are at, having authentic relationship with them, and loving them in a down-to-earth, practical sort of way.

These guys go to porn conventions, and bring bibles with covers that say, "Jesus Loves Porn Stars." People snatched them up like candy. They talk to people. Beyond being an industry that puts out stuff I would consider ultimately detrimental to relationships and a healthy perspective on sexuality, the industry itself chews people up and spits them out. Like Hollywood, there may be a few stars that "live the high life" - but the common porn actor isn't a restaurant server or admin temp by day - more often than not they will resort to prostitution or worse when the gigs dry up (see Trinity Project below). It's okay if every conversation doesn't end in "give your life to Jesus" - some conversations are just about listening to people's stories and journey of hurt, and communicating the simple truth: I care about you, and I think God does too.

Some Stupid Church People - as a frequent read of mine would call them - associate this with compromise of the the gospel... a watered down Jesus. After meeting them, I can unequivocally say, that's not accurate. They may not be perfect, but then again, I haven't met anyone other than me who is. Although Pat Robertson is a close, close second.

Some of their better (and slightly controversial ministry approaches):

Wally the Weiner: I'll be honest. To me, Wally kind of looks like a... you know. A twig and giggle-berries. A python that swallowed a baby rattle. A meat and two veg. Imagine walking into a porn convention, and, towering high above all the booths and boobs and whatever, is this giant, conspicuously phallic character named "Wally the Weiner." He has a simple challenge: do you have the balls to stop looking at porn? Why not? Are you addicted? Great conversations ensue. You gotta give Wally a hand - both for providing so many opportunities for saying something like that, and for being an in-your-face counter to the blatant bombardment of sexualized imagery that is everywhere in our culture - like him or not, it's impossible to ignore him, and that's kind of the point.

Pete the Porno Puppet: A pornographer writes to XXXchurch and offers to partner with them to create a commercial that encourages kids not to look at the naughty things their "mommies and daddies" may have lying around. XXXchurch says, "holla." National media attention ensues - pastors who are willing to interact with a sinner? *Gasp!* Despite the fact that Jimmy D (the director) has not become a born again Christian, they are legitimate friends.

X3 Watch: This could be considered the mainstay of the web-based portion of their ministry. It's a free program that you install on your computer that tracks and sends a list of questionable sites to up to 2 accountability partners you designate. The approach, I believe, is preferable to an internet filter in most instances - because the reality is, pornography, filter or not, computer or not, is available everywhere. If it's a temptation to look at it, the "Every Man's Battle White Knuckle It" approach will not last unless heart issues are faced with friends and the Father. This helps make sure those conversations happen - and it's free.

Trinity Project: Michelle, a (now former) actress in the porn industry (whose stage name was Trinity, hence the name of the project), calls Craig at 5 am one morning. She had met him about a year and a half prior at the porn expo in Las Vegas, and had a simple question: "You said then that you guys would be willing to help us get out of this industry - do you still mean that? Because I want out." After scraping by in the porn industry ($28,000 a year for several hundred low-budget porn flicks), prostitution seemed the only option left to not end up on the street. An internet campaign later, Trinity and her daughter have relocated back to the midwest and she is starting life over. Is life for her perfect? Did she fall on her knees and accept Jesus with the check? Not exactly. But was that the point, or was/is showing her love in a way that she's probably never seen it before the point? You can read her blog here. One word for both Michelle and XXXchurch: bravo.

I have no idea if this blog will be controversial or not - indeed, I don't know who most of my 900-ish "unique visitors" are in a given month (but don't you feel special, that you're all totally unique, in every possible way, except for the fact that you're all unique). But, having been familiar with their ministry before meeting them, and all the more so after having a chance to connect in person, I think the heart of this ministry is dead-on. They know how to love people. Period. Which is more than I can say for most of most of these people. And that speaks volumes about the Father that I know, all on its own. Check out their digs - let me know what you think.

Totally Unspiritual Post of the Week, #8

2006-01-27T14:57:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since I did a totally unspiritual post, so the content has been building up...

First off, I've had several laugh aloud moments taking a look the "Top 100 Facts About Chuck Norris" site. Among my favorites are:

- Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad Chuck Norris never cries.
- The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
- Someone once tried to tell Chuck Norris that roundhouse kicks aren't the best way to kick someone. This has been recorded by historians as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.
- Superman owns a pair of Chuck Norris pajamas.
- It was once believed that Chuck Norris actually lost a fight to a pirate, but that is a lie, created by Chuck Norris himself to lure more pirates to him. Pirates never were very smart.
- There isn't a chin beneat Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist.

More Pranks
Next, we're going to spend some more time on great pranks. Although I'd like to say that I have been the perpetrator in all of these examples, I'll start off in one story where I was the perpetratee, often referred to as a perpee.

This prank was played on me by Michael Houston, a coworker (who you might remember as the perpee in one of my earlier pranks, the "diploma swap.") I came back to my office after a meeting to find a box on my desk. Boxes are always exciting to receive, as they often contain presents, office supplies, or werewolves. Excitement turned to suspicion, however, when I noticed this particular box had some peculiar corners. Specifically, the corners appeared to be burned, and frayed wires were visibly protruding from the packaging.

Now, if you're like me, you check the New York State Police site on suspicious packages every other day, just in case something like this happens. Because I had checked the site, and had posted their very helpful diagram above my desk, I knew that packages with "protruding wires" should be examined by a professional bomb squad. After reading so much about these types of packages I knew exactly what not to do: "don't let anyone touch it, call safety officials immediately, don't attempt to carry it outside," etc.

Instead, we decided it would be safest to shake the package (it felt light inside, although there was definitely something in it), and then take it outside for further examining, just in case it was a bomb. We first threw a baseball at it (which is a technique I saw on the TV series: "Bombsquad Crewz"), and after it didn't explode, decided it was certainly safe to open. Despite the fact I did not think it was a bomb, it was a little disappointing that it didn't explode. Instead, I found a mug inside, and a $50 gift card to Starbucks! Michael fessed up that he had intercepted the package, had been bored, and decided wires and burnt edges would give us a few minutes of entertainment.

(Follow up: Michael has been fired. Please keep his pregnant wife and unborn child in your prayers).

#2: Computer Pranks
I have a new coworker: Chris Collins. Chris has an irrational fea... I mean love of snakes. Whenever he sees a snake, he immediately lets it crawl around inside of his clothes. He wants everyone to e-mail him a picture of the coolest snake they can find on the internet (literal snake, not figurative) to his e-mail address. Anyway, instead of e-mailing him my favorite snake, I just made it his desktop background so he would see it right away.

To thank me, he made a slight modification to my autocorrect feature in Microsoft Outlook. In order to save me time, every time I typed the word "and," Chris set my computer to autocomplete "and by the way I'm brokeback gay." This proved to be extremely convenient, and all those saved keystrokes kept me from getting carpal tunnel syndrome.

In order to thank him back, I decided it was time for a little game called "Remote Havoc." This is a "computer program" of sorts, that you can "install without another user's knowledge" and that "allows you control of their computer." It's a blast. You install it to their computer, and then, from a control panel on yours, you can "say hello."

I started off with a normal sounding information message that read, "Windows has automatically synchronized your computer clock to Greenwich Standard Time (GST)."

I had people planted to watch Chris as these messages started popping up, and after staring at his screen for a few seconds, he just clicked, "ok."

Then, I decided to flash up one of my favorite websites, called "XXXchurch.com". Don't worry- it's not a porn site. It's a great, unconventional ministry. Conveniently, one of the founders is speaking at Pepperdine in just a few weeks, and Chris is in charge of that program - so it seemed normal that maybe he hit a key that would accidentally pop this site up.

Next, I sent Chris a warning from the "Pepperdine Content Filter", which apparently thought XXXchurch.com was a naughty site:

Chris immediately got up from his chair, and walked to the front of the office. We casually strolled out there, and made up some question to ask. He said something to the effect of "Hey, do you guys know anything about a Pepperdine Content Filter?," to which we said "I seem to remember the President mentioning something about that in his address to the Student Government Association...". He said he was going to visit IT Engineering, to find out what was going on. He also accused us of messing with his computer. The fact that I was smiling when I denied it didn't help him to believe me.

He came back, and what do you know, the IT guys were busy. While I was in his office, I was asking him to describe to me what had happened - we even searched for a malicious program that might be running on his computer together. Instead, the same xxxchurch.com site and warning message popped up! (my coworker, Michael Houston, was in my office on the control panel).

I left, and people started congregating in his office, some aware, and some oblivious to the joke. Then, the warning messages started getting a little odd:

Chris bolted into my office, realizing that it must be me. He's a clever one!

You can download Remote Havoc here. Among other favorites on the control panel, you can open and close the cd tray, switch the mouse buttons, minimize windows, run programs, and send any warning message you want.

...and that's all for this week's totally unspiritual post. I'll have some more videos posted in the bathroom that people have been sending me - quality stuff. Peace in!

Parable of the Servant Who Became Son

2006-01-22T19:09:00.000-08:00

There was a certain servant in the King’s court. Although he was technically not "free" to leave the King's service (since he was a servant), he actually loved the King very much. The King had taken him in as a young man, when his family and parents had passed away, and cared for and supported him. Even when he made mistakes, the King never raised his voice toward the servant - in fact, he would usually just smile, and thank him for his help.

Because of his admiration and love, the servant took great delight in serving the King. Upon completing a task, he would return almost immediately to ask, "Master, speak your will, and I will do it." In response to this, the King would usually say, "Why, come sit with me," and they would enjoy long hours in one another's company.

As he grew to be a young man, the servant still came to the King every day saying, "Master, speak your will, and I will do it." He realized that the King's responses to this request became increasingly difficult. The King began sending him on long journeys, which often took weeks or months of difficult and dangerous travel. The boy began wondering if the King was growing tired of him, or wanted to keep him occupied so that he would not be able to remain in the palace. He almost never invited him to simply sit with him anymore; every time the boy asked what he should do, there was always some task to be completed.

Finally, the boy asked, "Sire, have I done anything to displease you?"

"Why do you ask?" said the King.

"It's just - I wish only to do your will and bidding, but it seems that these past few years it has always been something...difficult. I am happy to serve you, Master, but I also noticed that you never invite me to sit with you anymore. I thought maybe I had done something to disappoint you, or to upset you."

"And now it is time for me to ask you a question,” said the King. “Do you love me?"

"Why, of course, Master. You know that I do.”

"And have I ever treated you as my servant?" said the King.

"No, Lord - you have treated me as, well, as a son. And..." he added, gulping, "Even as a friend."

The King responded as if he had been waiting for him to speak those words. "Then when will you stop asking me what my will is for you, as if you were bound to me as my servant?"

"I don't understand, Master," said the servant. "I only wanted to please you by following your commands, and by accomplishing your will."

"My will has already been accomplished," said the King carefully and slowly, "because you love me as I love you. That is all I have ever wanted. Though you have remained determined to be my servant, I have, and do call you my son."

Overwhelmed, the servant asked, "Then... Father... what am I to do now?"

"My Kingdom, in all of its fullness, is yours," said the King. "What would you like to do, son?"

And the son realized for the first time... he had absolutely no idea. He didn't know how to live his life without relying on the King – his Father – to tell him what to do.

"I don't know. I guess it was much easier when I was a servant," said the son. "I think for now, I'd like to just sit with you for awhile."

Holy Hand Grenade

2006-01-14T16:06:00.000-08:00

Every once in awhile, I'll come across something that lobs the proverbial hand grenade into my quaint theology, causing extensive kidney damage and adding to the collection of shrapnel I carry in my left butt cheek. This particular hand grenade came in the form of a book recently given to me by a friend and scholar, Ezra Plank, titled, "The Biblical Vision of Sabbath Economics," by Ched Myers.

If you're ever in a Christian bookstore, you might miss this one, as it wouldn't look out of place wedged inbetween "Let Me Touch Him" and "Joel Osteen's: Follow God, Win a Ferrari." The title isn't "catchy" in the traditional sense, and the fact that it looks like an oversized pamphlet on pesticides or tree pruning doesn't help. However, if you listen to Mother and don't judge a book by its cover, then you're in for a tasty treat.

Ok, so I haven't read the whole thing yet. But the chapter that has kept me thinking is a re-read of the in/famous "Parable of the Talents." You know the story: three slaves are given some 'talents' by their master - one gets five, one gets two, and one gets a single talent. The master takes off for a trip to Vegas or something, and the action heats up when he returns and the slaves have to give an account for what they've done with the cash. If you're like me, you've probably heard two main interpretations of this parable:

The Warren Buffet
The master is God, but this is a story about stewardship - primarily economic stewardship. This interpretation always starts with something like, "One talent, in biblical times, was 6,000 denari - which was the modern day equivalent of a trazillion Japanese yen!" God doles it out freely, but he didn't give you all that cash to blow on iTunes and Starbucks - he wants a return on his "investment." Life is life, and not everyone gets the same amount of money to handle. The important thing is that you use it, and make a return on what is given to you. Specifically, this parable would point to God expecting about a 100% ROI, which you don't need my MBA to tell you is nuttier than a squirrel with elephantitis. The jerk in this story is the humanities major, who slept through econ and buried his money in the ground. The lazy humanities major, not only a financial idiot, also has the audacity to accuse God of being stingy and greedy - a crime for which he is cast into the "outer darkness, where there is weeping, gnashing of teeth, and explosive diarrhea."

The Network Executive
This one is a little more of a stretch - but I've heard it preached boldly in churches. A talent isn't money... it's a talent, silly! You know, like being a gifted speaker, or having pipes like Celine Dion (and I mean vocal, not of the plumbing-variety), or being able to make farting noises with your leg instead of your armpit. These are the same people that might read the Judges account of Sodom, ("So the man seized his concubine, and put her out to them; and they knew her, and abused her all night until the morning") and think: "What's the big deal? I know lots of concubines." Anyway, God is sort of like a network executive in this version: the point is, are you using your talents to glorify God? If you're a gifted speaker, maybe you should preach some Sunday. If you are a gifted musician, maybe you should lead worship, and if you are a gifted artist, maybe you should be on parking lot duty. The guy that gets rebuked? You guessed it, the gifted artist, who shuns parking lot duty.

The Problem...
The problem with these accounts is that they are off at best, and wrong at worst. Aren't there some parables you read, and even though you've heard a hundred sermons on them, you feel deep down that we're missing it? There are two big red flags in this story and the usual interpretations. First is God's espousal of "you have been faithful with a few things, you will be put in charge of many things." I once knew a gal who never drove faster than the posted speed limit, because this was being faithful with a "few" things, and meant God would eventually have to reward her appointing her the princess of Quatar, with absolute power over the lives of its citizens, or something like that. Wacky- but I hear this all the time... and is being faithful with a few things really what God needs to see in order to trust us? (Or the reverse- unfaithfulness with a few things means we're screwed... which, by the way, we would be under this rationale.) The second is the infamous, "everyone who has will be given more, and whoever does not have, I'm also going to kick him in the groin." This verse is the reason I only steal from the homeless and impoverished - God commands it.

The Retelling
I won't spoil the whole kit and caboodle (that is the first time I've typed that word, and boy was it fun). But the short version is this: we're retelling an ancient parable in a very modern capitalist framework. The audience of the story heard it the way we read it still - within their own cultural norm. That norm told them that the usury, the fancy bible-speak for "screwing someone with high interest" was wrong- and the idea of a slave actually getting a 100% return on his investment meant he did not some, but a LOT of dirty dealings. This usually took the form of people with money giving loans with exorbitant interest rates to farmers in bad harvest years; the farmers would default, and the landowners would foreclose on the land or make them indentured servants. The master is exactly as the servant described him - a greedy, controlling, and hard man. The third servant (yes, the one condemned to explosive diarrhea), is the 'hero' of the story- he calls the master for what he is, and his act of burying the talent into the ground was an intentional refusal to participate in a system that expected (and demanded) wrongful gain and exploitation. As Myers puts it:

Unwilling to participate in this exploitation, this third slave took the money out of circulation where it could no longer be used to dispossess another family farmer...He has awakened to the rules of the master's world. His repudiation of it is simple and curt: "Here, take back what is yours" (Matt. 25:25). But he admits that through it all, "I was afraid." For good reason, for he is about to meet the prophet's fate.

It's so easy to read this parable as an endorsement of fiscal responsibility and stewardship... and to miss the boat completely. Dare we consider our other expectations for wealth and success in light of this parable... and the reality that kingdom principles seem to be radically different from capitalist principles? You don't need an MBA to figure that one out... but if you've got one, I hear Apple's stock is a hot buy these days.

My Belated 12 Days of Christmas

2006-01-08T17:14:00.000-08:00

If you're like most people, you too have been duped. See, there is this song that we all know, that talks about "12 days of Christmas." Well, I don't know about you, but I've only ever gotten one stinkin' day of Christmas... which means that since my birth, I'm still short a whole 286 days of presents and nog. If we celebrated 12 days of Christmas, we'd have 50% more days of presents than Hanukah - think of how trendy and popular it would be to celebrate Christ's birth then!

In honor of said song, and since I haven't blogged since sometime before Christmas and New Year's, this will be the (quick) catch-up on holiday going-ons: my twelve days of Christmas...

Day 1: We probably watched several episodes of "Lost," season 2, which we were able to find online at a "significant discount."

Day 2: I probably watched the first and second season of "Arrested Development," which I have become addicted to. You can be my "hermano" any day, and watch it with me... just give me a call.

Day 3: We ate incessantly. This really covers all 12 days of Christmas, but that would be a boring update. It all started with our first annual tradition of making Cornish game hens on Christmas eve... and progressed through several prime ribs, a night of shrimp, beef, and chicken fondue, several Dutch and Arabic forms of dessert, stuffed jalapeno peppers and salmon, a sushi-fest, Fenton's in SanFran, diet Coke, several cases of Snapple, a partridge, a pear tree, and vomit-inducing Jones' "Brussel-Sprout" flavored soda.

Day 4: Time with my side of the family on Christmas day. It was good times, and the start of a lot of eating.

Day 5: Driving up to the lakehouse in NorCal in torrential rain. Said rain continued throughout the rest of the week, virtually non-stop. Bad windshield wipers = driving 40mph most of the way.

Day 6: Presents galore. Among the top, I upgraded my digital camera (reviews forthcoming), and several great books, some very special "Scottish Water" that may have been "distilled" and "stored in a cask for 12 years," and a smattering of clothes.

Day 7: Playing the Settlers of Catan with the Zacharia clan. Corrie humiliated me, but I came back with two decisive victories that guaranteed my title as "Lord of Catan" for many weeks to come.

Day 8: A raging bladder infection. Not mine. Corrie's. It exploded on a 3.5 hour drive back to the lakehouse from SanFran, spraying urine and puss everywhere (almost). This was after dropping her fam off to fly back to Hong Kong. We got to spend 2 am - 5 am in more blinding rain at the emergency room (that might have been dramatized for effect).

Day 9: My cup runneth over, as did the lake. 5 days of rain, and the dock and half of the back yard were underwater. Many fun treasures, mostly of the mud or wood variety, find their way into the once-manicured lawn.

Day 10: New Year's Eve. The most overrated holiday of all. We were halfway through "The Negotiator" when midnight struck, and after a short, "woo-hoo," continued our enthrallment with Samuel L. Jackson's plight. (SPOILER: He IS innocent!!)

Day 11: We drive back to So.Cal, in more blinding rain. I sacrifice my body by falling into a puddle and scraping my knees while desperately trying to get inside an auto shop to buy new wipers without getting wet. Failing, a long, bad mood ensued.

Day 12: Back at home, laundry to do, returns to make, and the smoldering remains of a Christmas tree to take down.

Throw in going to the bathroom once or twice, and my annual shower (even though I usually don't need it), and that was pretty much it, folks!

Ni Hao, China - Adieu Business School

2005-12-15T12:22:00.000-08:00

Well, in three weeks, I've been to the other side of the world and back, caught up on about .0009% of the hundreds of e-mails I got while gone at work (good thing only .001% were important), finished my last final for several years to come, became a Master (of Business Administration, not my own island), and... well, if you add in bodily functions, sleep, and Chronicles/Kong, then you're basically caught up on my life...

Or not. You probably don't want all the details on bodily functions and sleep (e-mail me if I'm wrong). Graduation was a blast, and it feels fantastic to be done; had a good deal of the family come up and we enjoyed the tastiest tri-tip this side of Western civilization: Woodranch. Beyond saying you're a fool if you don't go see Chronicles of Narnia and King Kong (saw Kong last night/this morning), since they're both stellar movies, that leaves China. I didn't think that they did a very good job with making Kong to be a believable Christ figure (because Jesus would never bite the tongue out of a Tyrannosaurus Rex), and I have no idea why they cut the scene in Chronicles where Aslan is swatting down biplanes, but hey- it's Hollywood.

As for China - whew, it's hard to know where to begin. It was definitely a lot to cram into just a few days; I think in the two weeks we were gone, we had 39 hours of flying time, 10 hours of bus rides, a few hours of train/metro rides, and a 5 hour pterodactyl ride (since you can only get to Jingzhou by pterodactyl these days). The basic gist of the trip was relatively simple: Hong Kong with Corrie's family for Thanksgiving, Shanghai to see one of my best buds, Chuck Engelmann (and get the big, China city feel), and Jingzhou to visit another friend Allan Heida (to get the more central, real-China feel). Each leg of the trip was amazing in its own right.

Hong Kong is always good - and by always, I mean it's been good the two times I've been there. Beyond being a blast to spend time with Corrie's family, Hong Kong is definitely just an intriguing city; it's kind of like Malibu and New York all rolled into one, with less "shabby chic" and more "sleek." Turkey day was full of all kinds of tasty morsels, and we even got to go on a junk ride, which translates into taking a big boat out into the South China sea and pelting dolphins with useless trinkets you want to get rid of.

Shanghai had the big city feel of Hong Kong, but definitely much more "Chinese." Shanghai-ians don't really speak Mandarin - they shout it, even when they're not angry. For example, ordering a pizza might sound like:

Me: I'M HUNGRY!!!!
Domino's man: WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY A PIZZA SIR!!
Me: YES PLEASE, WITH PEPPERONI!!!
Domino's man: FOR AN EXTRA DOLLAR YOU CAN GET A FREE BOWL OF WENDY'S CHILLI!!!
Me: THAT MAKES NO SENSE, BUT OK!!!!

We traveled the city with Chuck and his significant other, Judith- whom, after seeing proper documentation and proof that she is an "Alliance" approved magician, we officially stamped with our approval. It was great to see Chuck doing so well- so happy, and the big-dog editor in chief of BizShanghai - a magazine distributed in the city. In Shanghai, we ate lots of amazing food, and did some crazay shopping in the "mee-stah, you want cd/dvd/handbag/watch" markets. Among the purchases: TAG Heuer watch: $20. Hugo Boss Dress Shirts: $7.50 each. Indentured Child Servant: Priceless. We also got to spend some time with an eclectic group of Brothers and Sisters that Chuck knows - and let me tell you, Dad likes 'em. We were right at home, in a far-east kind of way.

Then, we hopped on a plane to Wuhan, the capital of the Hubei province. We were met by Connie (her English name), a super-awesome Chinese friend of a friend of a friend (literally), who took a two hour bus ride to come meet us at the airport, then rode with us via taxi for an hour to the bus stop, helped us get tickets and on the right pterodactyl to Jingzhou. The bus ride was relatively uneventful, although through a lot of amazing Chinese countryside. We also spent about 3.5 hours with Jack Bauer, waging war on terror in season 4 of "24" (which we got in Shanghai).

Allan Heida, who is in Jingzhou (pronounced Jing-joe) as an English teacher, met us at the bus station, and took us back to his apartment. Jingzhou was everything Shanghai wasn't; it is a "big" city by our size standards, but then again, practically everywhere in China is. It has an incredibly rural feel to it though. Whereas Shanghai and Hong Kong are pretty comparable (if not more advanced) than many Western cities, Jingzhou was totally different- we increased the foreigner population in Jingzhou (a city of several million, mind you) by about 20%. Depending on where we went, we would get lots of stares - at first, this seemed normal, since even in the US Corrie and I are considered "very hot," but quickly realized it was not our "good" looks per se, but rather the fact that many people had never seen a Caucasian before. Jingzhou, like many Chinese cities, also has an astounding amount of history going back over 2,000,000 years, when T-Dawg Rex, king of the dinosaurs, ruled the earth from his palace in the city. It was T-Dawg's mandate that established daily pterodactyl flights into Jingzhou, which still continue today. That almost seems totally unnoticed by its residents; the old part of the city is still surrounded by ancient city walls and a moat, and despite our insistence, the townspeople thought that pterodactyls were "boring" and "unexciting." In Jingzhou, we also got to meet a good deal of Family, and despite being so far from what we would consider home, found it amazing to connect so easily with them.

In the end, our China trip was truly fruitful for us - both as a fun experience, but also in giving us some wisdom and guidance in looking at moving there at some point. If we came away with one conclusion, it was strongly considering going over initially just to study Mandarin, since it's challenging enough to learn the language without being English teachers at the same time. I think that's the direction we're headed at this point, but as always, it certainly may be subject to change as we continue to look into things. Either way, the trip confirmed that we are certainly China bound; and that is exciting indeed!

A Lesson For Ingratitude

2005-11-15T17:29:00.000-08:00

I am so guilty of taking my life for granted. I live and work in a Christian community that's within a gunshot of the beach; my commute to work lasts all of 90 seconds, and consists of driving down a hill from which I can see miles and miles to the horizon overlooking the Pacific Ocean. And like the rest of the world, I often wake up tired, grumble my way through the day, complain about petty politics and inconveniences, and try to wall off a private, isolated cosmos where I am in control. My life is the epitome of ingratitude on such days - and often, God smacks me into the reality of His life with the views all around me.

Yesterday was one of those days, when I found my pathetic world stopped cold in the sheer wonder of what God had made. A sea of clouds, just barely floating on the ocean's surface, crept inland with a majestic, eerie calm. At first, I couldn't believe what I was seeing, so I decided to drive to one of the highest points on campus, grabbing my camera along the way. If I could have been present for the Spirit of God hovering over the waters in Genesis, surely it looked like this. I don't need to wax poetic to do the scene justice. The God we serve made this, and in the worship it evoked from me, I realized how often I can miss what He is creating and doing right in front of me...

Whether it is watching your kid play, or having dinner with your spouse, catching a sunset, or simply realizing who He has revealed himself to be in Christ... here's to all of us being stopped in a moment of thankful wonder this week.

(click to enlarge photo)

(tech geek info: Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XT, Canon 50mm f/1.8, TV:1/125, AV: 7.1, ISO 100, polarizing filter, levels adjusted with Photoshop)

(tech geek info: Canon EOS DIGITAL REBEL XT, Sigma 70-300mm [@92mm] f/4.5, TV:1/500, AV: 9.0, ISO 100, levels adjusted with Photoshop)

I Can Explain Everything

2005-11-12T16:40:00.000-08:00

These past few weeks I've been flooded with e-mails from people who have been losing sleep with worry over where I've been. I want to thank you all for your heartfelt concern; all the fasting, intercession and prayer walks have really paid off, and at last I'm back among the blogging. It's been the longest break I've had from blogging since launching RFL, but with very good reason. Many of you probably won't belive the story I am about to tell you, but then again most people don't believe me when I tell them that I invented the internet either. Trust me: Al Gore was full of crap. It was me I tell you. Me.

It was about two weeks ago that I had a vision of St. Louis. St. Louis, who is one of the lesser-known Catholic saints (along with St. Frank, St. Bob, and St. Moe), was cannonized after performing the miracle of turning his urine into cheap, tasteless beer. [side note: There is a large Budweiser manufacturing plant still in St. Louis to this day, where the monks still devote themselves to sacred vows of urination, which they carbonate, water-down, and bottle at the plant.] In this vision, St. Louis told me to visit his city (who knows why). While I was there, I decided to stop by and visit with my Dad and his family, which was a great time. Obviously, when I am totally removed from my computer for an entire weekend, my blogging time suffers immensely.

No sooner did I return from St. Louis' wild goose chase did I find myself in the throes of a large group project for my final MBA class (If you ever want to learn a ton of senseless information using Porter's 5 Force Industry & Competetior Analysis to study Major League Baseball, read no further). As you may know, group projects were invented in communist Russia. "Labor camps" were just fancy terminology for lazy proletariats making other people do their work. Isn't it ironic that in a business school we're participating in socialist propaganda? And here's a hot tip to anyone in business school, or who is in business at all really: it's all about proper use of "business lingo." Business lingo (also called Bingo) can flower up even the dullest of activities. When you come into the boardroom for that big presentation, instead of saying, "I just had a satisfying poop in the office planter," you can really wow the board with "I'm thrilled to announce I just dropped a high-load resource from my asset that will result in upward growth trends and lighter carrying costs!" That got me a raise just last week - and all I did was poop in a planter!

Finally, last weekend I took a trip to the desert to visit an old friend, "Obi-Wan Brumme." Obi-Wan Brumme is kind of a hermit that lives by himself in Palm Desert. He and I are definitely into the Force and it was good to catch up on life, laughs, light-sabers and his never-ending search for the right "Padme." Obi-Wan has been very involved in promoting the relase of the "Chronicles of Narnia" amongst churches; I even got to see 10 minutes of special sneak-peek footage, and let me tell you: they did a great job look making the Ewoks look real. This again took up a whole weekend, and kept me from blogging.

And ever since, I've been busy with more work, more stuff for school, taking needed down-time with my beautiful wife, and the exploration and conquest of the world. The good news is that I'm back in the game for at least a week before we leave for Hong Kong/ mainland China for Thanksgiving. That may be another dry blogging spell... but there should be some meaty content to keep things tasty this week.

Queen of the Damned Gets Saved: Anne Rice Sinks Her Teeth Into Jesus

2005-10-25T23:39:00.000-07:00

Read an interesting article today on Anne Rice - most known for her fictional works involving the occult and a ten-book vampire series (which included "Interview With the Vampire"). Apparently, not much has been heard from Anne in the past 2 years since her last book was published (which broke her pace of 25 books in 25 years). Her next novel is quite a departure from the fangoria of past; it will be a story told in first person narrative, by Jesus, about his childhood and life.

"Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt" will be a fictional account of Jesus' childhood, and will draw on on accounts in a variety of sources - ranging from Scripture to the apocrypha to other fictional accoutns of his life. In a recent interview, Anne calls Jesus the "ultimate supernatural hero...the ultimate immortal of them all" and states unequivocally that her work may not be of interest to past fans given the change of content, stating, "I promised that from now on I would only write things for the Lord."

In all honesty, I know nothing about Anne Rice's books. I've never read one, I many never still, but I was really intrigued by the article. I guess two things struck me the most. First, it's obvious that only a real encounter with God would make Anne, a woman with a well-established career in fiction, really change her subject of expertise so dramatically at the risk of serious rejection in her field. Second, altough I am totally glad that she has evidently come into a real genuine faith in God, I almost found myself cringing to think that she might become a sort of "poster hero" in Christian circles.

There is a tendency for celebrities that are Christians to be, well, unfairly pressured to use their influence to "spread the gospel." Don't get me wrong on this; I rejoice for and with Anne. And Mel. And even that Baldwin brother (I think). But when I hear a statement like, "I promised to only write things for the Lord," my reaction is: well, why not just live for Him period. Do everything for the Lord, but realize that any life lived in relationship with him is extraordinary, regardless of what that looks like. Live authentically in your profession as a follwer of Christ. I don't expect Anne to become the "savior" of the industry, and I don't want her to - unless that's really what He has for her. I don't assume it is. Write whatever the heck you want to, and do it as worship to Him. Don't get caught in the trap of "now that I'm a Christian, I should only write books about Jesus." If that's what you want, then great - but as I was reading the article, I could almost feel the cringe of Christendom saying, "Now you must convert all those you lead astray with your vampire nonsense!"

Frankly, if I had to call it right now, this book stands a good chance of flopping - because it is not a canonical account of Jesus life (which will cause a stink in Christian circles) and will be such a departure from the usual goth-thriller that former fans will pass it up. Although I'll be happy if the book is a success, I hope that regardless of its reviews, Anne can simply be herself in the joy she has found, and that the book will remain a true expression of her worship and faith. I can celebrate with her in that - and frankly, I can celebrate with her regardless of future books or bestsellers.

Heck, maybe Anne hasn't been so far off in the past anyway; blood that brings eternal life. If it worked in her books about vampires, maybe it'll be a hit in her books about Jesus.

(Sidenote)The Federal Vampire and Zombie Angecy has brought to my attention that the Christian religion has really misrepresented vampires in the past. Maybe Anne can make amends for that in her future works.

Coconut Cream Pie

2005-10-05T01:15:00.000-07:00

"I know, I'll have the guts someday. Tonight - I have a deadline to meet with the newspaper."

This had been my response to what I had just seen, and I meant it; it was already late, and my page layouts were well behind the next day's deadline. Whether I imagined it or had been shown it by Father, the image was very clear: I was standing on the retaining wall of the fountain in our college town's local shopping center, and I was boldly declaring something having to go with God. Who knows what I was declaring, but I was so intense about what I was saying that I looked like a little kid - totally engrossed in telling everyone about the coolest thing ever. All I could see was me, standing on the fountain wall, speaking intensely. Lately, in the middle of worship, I had seen or imagined several different images of this sort. Whether they were "visions" or just my imagination in heartfelt worship, I didn't really know. Regardless, they left the same basic impression: I knew that I was totally loved by my Father as His child, but that He was drawing me to something... more. I was totally accepted, but there were things He wanted to do with me that involved risks I wasn't willing to take yet.

This time though, what was troubling is that I distinctly felt like God wanted me to actually go do this. Go stand on the fountain? Declare... something? About You? It made me anxious and awkward just thinking about it, let alone considering that it was actually something He wanted me to do. I knew it wasn't about performing some amazing feat of faith or proving my obedience - I already knew that, despite my screw-ups and lack of faith, He loved me completely anyway. It was the sense that there was even more He wanted me to share with Him, but it was at the cost of stepping outside of my own control and fully into His. Bottom line: it was about trust, and frankly, I wasn't quite ready to totally trust Him. As surprising as this seemed, I knew it was true, and this thought quietly bothered me as my friend drove us back to campus from the service.

Thankfully, the assistant editor for my section also went to the same church, so I had an accomplice to make a hasty retreat back to the journalism office. As she parked the car outside of the building, I rationalized that the vision must have been symbolic of a responsiveness He was slowly drawing me into, and not intended for me to actually take action on. Some part of me knew that even if I was wrong, the business of deadlines and editing would soon wipe away the nagging discomfort, and I probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow. As I reached for the door handle, my friend's voice interrupted this semi-conscious thought.

"Listen, I don't want to be weird or anything, and I have no idea what's really going on with you - but for whatever it's worth, I really feel like God's saying you're at a crossroad with some decision right now, and the outcome of what you decide is going to impact your life for... a long time to come. I may be way off, but I just really feel like I am supposed to tell you that before we go in."

"Interesting," I thought. Surely it was a coincidence. There must have been some other important decision that I was facing... something related to an article, or a class, or a friend in crisis...

...but nothing else came to mind.

"Hm." I said. "I guess... well, it's not weird you would say that at all. I need to go do something, and I'll be back in a little while."

"Are you okay," she said? "You're not going to go try to fly off of a building or something like that?"

"No, no. I'll be fine. There's just something I need to do, and... yeah. I'll be fine. Finish up the proof-reading for the articles that came in today, and when I get back, we'll figure out the layout."

I took the car, and began the short drive to the local shopping center where the fountain was. "Okay God, what's the deal? You want to get my attention? Fine." I was so scared I was almost angry. What was the deal? What was the point? "You really want me to go preach on the fountain at 10 o'clock on a Sunday night? Okay."

As I drove, I realized how much this theme of stepping out of my comfort zone had been coming up with me and God. It was like He wanted to show me this great thing or place, but in order to get there, I had to hike with Him over all the crap that I was most afraid of... especially, giving Him total control of me and my life. It wasn't even in the big things, but just the small nudges I got from Him prompting me to call someone, or go somewhere, or drop what I was doing to really listen to Him. I was caught in the tension of desperately wanting to know and experience what He had for me, but being too afraid to really let go and just let Him take me there. I parked, sat for a minute, and knew that it had to change. "Whatever you want me to do... that's fine. I just want everything You have for me, and I don't want to be held back by my fear anymore. I trust You."

I grabbed my bible, and as I started walking to the fountain, I noticed no one was around. Score. It would still be weird, but giving a little pep talk on the fountain would be a lot easier with no one watching. As I got closer though, it looked like there was a little girl sitting on the fountain wall... reading a book? Alone? At 10 o'clock on a Sunday night?

I had been needing to get glasses for distance vision, but was even more convinced when I got close enough to realize the girl was a bronze statue. I had never seen it before, and since I went down there often, it couldn't have been there more than a week or two. I walked up to the girl, who, despite being a lifeless statue, was obviously enjoying the book. Sitting down next to her, I saw the book actually had a story printed on it that looked like it was about a hedgehog...named Lawrence. I had to bend over to read the first page, which was just visible under the two pictures on top.

Lawrence by Janet Morgan Stoeke
"Lawrence would like to be brave. But he's not. Scary things are always happening to him. So he often stays safely at home, even though he would rather be out having his favorite desert at the cafe.

One day, Lawrence's yearning for coconut cream pie makes him overcome his shyness. As he sits down to eat his pie, things happen beyone Lawrence's wildest expectations. But he's too busy with his desert to notice."

The book was open to the two pictures that followed, ending the story.

A scared Hedgehog named Lawrence. This couldn't be coincidence. When I was a child, my family lived in England for three years. For no good reason, I became obsessed with Hedgehogs when we lived there. I just thought they were the coolest animals; my two best friends and I even tried to rescue a distressed hedgehog once, removing his ticks and trying to feed him. We even called the hedgehog hotline at St. Tiggywinkles, which was kind of like a vet that specialized in hedgehogs and badgers. Whenever he was touched, he would curl up into a prickly ball... but if you cradled him and rocked him gently, he would slowly uncurl and run around. We named him Prince.

My coconut cream pie was God, plain and simple. And if I would just get out of the house and press through my fears, I would enjoy the love He had for me like nothing else.

There was still no one around. I stood on the fountain wall, next to the girl, and had no idea what to say. It felt very awkward to be standing there, and even more awkward not knowing what to "boldly declare." With a nervous shrug, I decided to open my bible and read the first thing I came to. I tried to read it as boldly as I could, but it felt like a whisper.

"Lord, I have heard of your fame;
I stand in awe of your deeds, O Lord.
Renew them in our day,
in our time make them known;
in wrath remember mercy."

I kept reading out loud, and decided I would just read the chapter. As I was nearing the end, I noticed someone was walking towards the fountain, slowly. She arrived just as I finished Habakuk 3. I looked at her, gave a nod, and said, "How's it goin?"

We both nodded slowly, and silently acknowledged it was an awkward moment.

"Good," she said. "What are you reading?"

"The bible," I said, as nonchalantly as I could.

"That's cool. So...do you come here often to read out loud... on the fountain?

"No, first time. I just really felt like it was something I was supposed to do tonight. Kind of weird, I know." I didn't really feel awkward anymore, even though I was still standing on the fountain, holding my bible out.

"Well, I think that's really cool," she said genuinely.

"Thanks," I said, stepping off of the fountain and knowing I had finished what I needed to do.

We traded names and goodnights, and went our separate ways. She was a student and a Christian at the same college, and although that was the only time we really ever spoke, I occasionally saw her around. I also later found out from my friends that her freshmen year, she had stood up in our cafeteria and told everyone God loved them one day- she took a lot of flack from Christians and non-Christians after that.

I felt deeply at peace as I walked back to my car, and realized my fear had almost kept me from even considering going to the fountain earlier. I was so glad that I had, and almost had to laugh. He knew... He knew.

The coconut cream pie has been more than worth it ever since.

Best. Performance. Ever.

2005-10-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

I'm not a real "concert person." I knew plenty of people in high school and college that would scour ticketmaster like vultures, and then drop a few hundred bucks for the priviledge of driving 10 hours to see someone sing a dozen songs. This never made sense to me. Even in the height of my high school Billy Joel obsession, I never saw him in concert - and I'm okay with that. Concerts tend to be a lot of hassle, and can easily dissapoint; usually you paid way too much money for a seat that is too far away, or - if you're like me - you start to grow increasingly uncomfortable with the "star worship" that is taking place. It's kind of creepy, and usually makes me feel very empty. And constipated. So maybe the two aren't connected.

All that to say, last night I saw Martin Sexton in concert at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano with my wife and dear friend Andrew Brumme. Words cannot describe the talent, people. Martin Sexton gave the best live performance I have ever seen, and might have more raw talent in one of his boogers than I will ever hope to have in this lifetime. He was unpretentious, real, raw, and sang like a kid having the best time of his life. There were at least a dozen times when I sat in my seat with my jaw dropped in sheer disbelief at the beauty in the music. It was the kind of excellence that, rather than making me want to worship his talent, made me worship God - because I was in utter amazement that He could create a voice like that.

I really can't say much more, or I'd be cheating the experience. Although it's not the same, I did load some music from Martin's most recent album (Live Wide Open) into the stereo system for you to listen to. Just click here, or go look in the menu under "Living Room: Stereo System."

If you don't have time to listen to everything, be sure to catch "Black Sheep" and "In The Journey."

Totally Unspiritual Post of the Week #7

2005-09-27T00:51:00.000-07:00

For this week's totally unspiritual post, I have two things:

1) RPS 15

Rock paper scissors was invented by framers of the constitution to decide crucial issues of civil liberties once and for all - which is where the ACLU picked up the trend of using it in court. We all know that rock smashes scissors, paper covers rock, and scissors impale the unsuspecting loser, but modern diplomacy and global negotiations theory has necessitated the invention of a new alternative: RPS 15. Moving beyond the limitations of the original Rock-Paper-Scissors, RPS 15 can be used to decide more complex issues such as nuclear arms escalation, modern game theory, global poverty, and whether or not people without arms should be allowed careers in diplomacy.

The relationships of winning and losing can be tracked using the chart below.

2) Additionally, I found this article to be a comforting reality should RPS 15 diplomacy break down, thus throwing the US into a foreign conflict. The next time terrorists or other enemies try to swim into the country for an invasion, we'll be ready for 'em.

Armed and dangerous - Flipper the firing dolphin let loose by Katrina by Mark Townsend Houston, Sunday September 25, 2005
The Observer

It may be the oddest tale to emerge from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Armed dolphins, trained by the US military to shoot terrorists and pinpoint spies underwater, may be missing in the Gulf of Mexico.

Experts who have studied the US navy's cetacean training exercises claim the 36 mammals could be carrying 'toxic dart' guns. Divers and surfers risk attack, they claim, from a species considered to be among the planet's smartest. The US navy admits it has been training dolphins for military purposes, but has refused to confirm that any are missing.

Dolphins have been trained in attack-and-kill missions since the Cold War. The US Atlantic bottlenose dolphins have apparently been taught to shoot terrorists attacking military vessels. Their coastal compound was breached during the storm, sweeping them out to sea. But those who have studied the controversial use of dolphins in the US defence programme claim it is vital they are caught quickly.

Leo Sheridan, 72, a respected accident investigator who has worked for government and industry, said he had received intelligence from sources close to the US government's marine fisheries service confirming dolphins had escaped.

'My concern is that they have learnt to shoot at divers in wetsuits who have simulated terrorists in exercises. If divers or windsurfers are mistaken for a spy or suicide bomber and if equipped with special harnesses carrying toxic darts, they could fire,' he said. 'The darts are designed to put the target to sleep so they can be interrogated later, but what happens if the victim is not found for hours?'...

Missed Him At the Pole

2005-09-21T01:47:00.000-07:00

Today is officially "See You At The Pole" day - a morning when a whole bunch of Christians officially gather at flagpoles and celebrate the first time that pilgrims invited native americans to relocate to the North or South Pole. Usually, the celebration starts with prayer, and ends with a gluttonous consumption of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Honestly, I have nothing against the people participating in "See You At the Pole" (or SYATP, which, ironically, is also the abbreviation for "Surely, You Aren't That Pretentious). I have participated in one or two SYATP days myself, and, well... I saw people at the pole. Yesterday, I came across an interesting blog at Stupid Church People, which actually prompted this post. Steve (President Emeritus of Stupid Church People) really hated the idea of praying in public as being showy and hypocritical, and in direct contradiction with the ol' Matthew 6:5 "When you pray, don't be a retard like the Pharisees and do your gig on street corners so people will check out your chiseled butt." (Roughly Summarized Version, RSV). I don't have a problem with praying in public or where others can see me (Jesus did it)... but I think the heart of Matthew is, "Don't pray for attention. Or Krispy Kremes."

The SYATP national website is what really made my eyes roll. I quote them as saying:

"How desperately do you desire for God to come in power?

Is your heart truly broken for your non-Christian friends and the sin on your campus?

When you are seriously sold out and passionate about God He will honor your humble, broken, desperate cry. He wants to hear from you!...

If you are serious about selling out for Christ — hold on for the ride — you will be amazed at what God will do. God can use you beyond your wildest dreams! There is no better way than to pray, believing for the unimaginable. Dream big and pray with faith!"

Now, back in the day, I could pray down the heavens with the best of 'em. I knew for a fact that prayer was answered in proportion to my passion while praying... if I really, really meant it, then maybe I could convince God to do what I was praying for. Usually, the grander I prayed, the more He perked up: "Oh Gaaawd... Oh Faaaather. Come now in power!" I could stay up all night flinging bright, flaming arrows of prayer into the heavens. I would sign up for all of the big events: "Speak Deep," "Penultimate Awesome Prayer Siege," "Luv U All Nite" and such. If I was fasting, it was an even better way to get his attention - "Hey you! I'm starvin' down here! Com'on Jesus... save your people. Puh-leeeease! Otherwise, I'm not eating! Do you really want to kill me? Oh. Really?" I was definitely serious about maintaining a passion and vision for the fire of God to fall, lest He forget it was something He wanted to do. Incidentally, this type of prayer/fasting discipline dates back to the order of St. Constipatious, who was widely known for his spiritual gift of facial contortion when he was taking care of business in prayer (or while on the toilet, post-fast).

I wish all the people at the pole (also known as pee-poles) the best. But I hope they don't get a hernia trying to pray down the Spirit of God. For one, it's always awkward to lay hands for a hernia-healing, but two - I really don't think we need to convince God that He should move...as if He doesn't want to get off of the cosmic couch to do something. I hope those that feel the need to wake up on tomorrow morning in particular (as opposed to every day) can ask Father what He is doing right there, right then. And I hope we can all be satisfied with His presence, which is already in us and with us- not far away that we need to summon it, and not at work within us because of the passion or brokenness or "seriousness" of our prayers. He loves us - and He invites us to share and take part in what He is doing right here, right now. That's an invitaiton I'm interested in.

And tomorrow morning, that invitation happens to be in my bed, receiving the ministry of the Holy Comforter. If you think to pray for me this week, I'd love it; it's my busiest week of the year at work, involving 16+ hour days (organizing sorority recruitment). Just think: 800+ sorority women who are getting increasingly tired, cranky, and competitive with one another... and statistically, 150-200 of whom are probably experiencing a special time of the month. I'm the guy in charge. So yeah, I'd better see you at my stinkin' pole every morning this week. Goodnight!

The Parable Of Two Sons

2005-09-15T01:26:00.000-07:00

“A certain man had two sons, Ethan and Simon. Ethan, the man’s eldest son, was a simple, good man, who lovingly cared for his wife and children, and showed kindness to all those around him. He was a carpenter by trade, and worked every night until the oil in his only lamp ran out. He loved carving small wooden animals for the children in the town, and they loved him through toothy smiles and delighted laughter. He worked hard and tried to do what was right, and prayed every night that God would keep him from sinning.

Simon, the youngest son, was madly in love with the king’s daughter – and even more so, she was madly in love with him. They were engaged to be married, and usually didn’t care what they were doing as long as it was together. Through their marriage, Simon would bring honor to his family and eventually become the king of their nation. Many whispered that Simon was to be the ruler who would finally deliver the kingdom from generations of poverty and wars.

One afternoon, Ethan saw a man beating his wife and young children because their cart had tipped over. Without thinking twice, he stopped and said to the man, “Sir, what you are doing is not right; have mercy on your wife and children, just as God has mercy on you.” The other man felt humiliated by Ethan’s remark, and pulling out a knife from his boot, stabbed him in the chest. As he prayed to God to have mercy on his soul and to watch over his wife and children, Ethan passed away.

The same afternoon Simon was out fishing with his fiancée, when suddenly a storm appeared on the horizon. Within an hour, giant waves were crashing over the sides of the small boat, and they were swept out to sea. When the weather had calmed, the battered vessel was leaking and taking on water quickly. It would only stay afloat to reach land again if one person jumped out of the boat and drowned. The two loved each other beyond imagination, and neither could bear to see the other one die. So, they decided to draw lots, hoping the other would be able to stay in the boat and live. Suddenly, the eldest son heard the voice of God say, ‘Throw your fiancée – the one that you love so much - out of the boat and into the water.’ Simon immediately did so.

I tell you the truth, Ethan was a great man, and will not go without reward. But the Simon was the greatest of all, having faith deeper than any man before him.”

---------------------------------

I wrote this at some point in college. I was asked to write a parable for a ‘Ministry of Preaching’ class I was taking at the time, and when I got it back, the only comment the campus minister had written was something to the effect of, “Interesting parable. It definitely needs some explanation. Incidentally, sniffing glue is a healthier alternative to acid.” It might seem like an odd, or even morose Christian parable – like if Tim Burton ever got saved, he’d probably spend most of his time writing parables like this (and the “Nightmare Before Christmas” would have involved a few more wise-men with chainsaws).

But I believe it expresses a biblical truth that is hard to fully comprehend unless put in this context. Notice that the account of the youngest son ends with him being obedient to God’s command to throw his fiancée overboard. This is problematic for several reasons. Most obviously, God would have never commanded Simon to murder his fiancée unless she had been listening to Brittany Spears at that exact moment. Since Brittany isn’t even mentioned in this parable, it’s clearly not God that is speaking. The fact that Simon didn’t even hesitate when he heard such a command puts his ability to discern the voice of God into question even more. Surely, he was not the great man that people though him to be...or was he? How can a murderer ever be called a man of God – a man of faith?

Ethan is alive and well in most churches, and leads a good life there. Ethan is who we are taught to model – and for good reason. Ethan is steadfast and solid; he is a man of faith-guided principles, and lives his life by those principles. He is active in his community. He is kind and loving to his family. Ethan is good; he’s about as predictable as stink on poop, but he’s a decent man.

Simon on the other hand? Clearly a nut job. One of those Pentacostal wackos that probably barks in meetings and is always claiming God told him to “sniff the glue.” He does these crazy things, and then says it was God who told him to do it. He’s unpredictable, ungrounded – and if he only knew his scripture better, he could be sure that God would never issue the command-equivalent of “kill thy neighbor.” It’s love thy neighbor, silly!

God doesn’t violate his own commands. He is everlasting, unchanging – the Great I AM. You can be sure it wasn’t Him that told you to kill your wife, or father, or son... or son.

What? Oh, yeah, Abraham. Well, but that’s different. Abraham knew he wasn’t going to actually kill his son. It was a test of trust – like a cosmic obstacle course. He passed. No big deal.

The youngest son had a “promise” of sorts in the marriage and relationship he enjoyed with his fiancée. He also loved her very deeply – the way a father, who never thought he would have children, might love his only son. It might make a difference to know that as he grabbed his fiancée to throw her into the water, an angel of the Lord caught her fall and gently lowered her back into the boat. It might make a difference if God decided to save them soverignly right then and there. But this man was blessed because he knew to follow the voice of his Father – who had won his trust, not just his obedience to principle. Even should he throw his wife overboard, even if she had died, he would bring her back to life and back to him – because that’s the Father whose voice he knew.

The shock is intended, because I think most people skip over Abraham’s situation. For Abraham, far more was at stake than simply trusting God. He didn’t know God was going to stop him before the knife fell. He just knew God was God – a God that speaks, and a Father that is worthy of our trust.

So - Ethan or Simon? Welcome to the journey.

Katrina Questions The Bipolar God

2005-09-08T01:04:00.000-07:00

I don't feel I can let the events of the past week-plus go by without mentioning some of my thoughts surrounding Hurricane Katrina. (Note to self: do not name first daughter or son 'Katrina.' Speaking of, why do they have to name Hurricanes after people at all? How do you think all the little Katrinas of New Orleans feel? Can't you just call it 'Hurricane CheeseWhiz' or 'Hurricane Sucks-To-Be-You' and save these kids years of therapy? But I digress...) For me, I was aware of the situation before it occurred based on the predictions of the experts who saw the storm headed for the city. I waited, saw, and over the course of the next days, was increasingly amazed and heartbroken for the people and lives that have been forever changed. By the time I was hearing news of rapes and murders and street war in the Superdome, I was well into disbelief, and wished I could run for denial. But the images and stories kept on coming, and with them, the reality of the tragedy.

Then, I had to put up with strings of mass e-mails and blogs and articles blaming everyone from President Bush to... well, President Bush. And Newt Gingrich, just because his name is Newt, and a newt is a slimy water-dwelling worm. And the Lucky Charms Leprechaun, because honestly- what the heck has he been doing to respond to this disaster? It goes on and on... but there is someone that really hasn't taken the blame for this - and that's God.

One the one hand, that's not surprising. The people that believe in God period don't generally like to think of Him as the "city-razing" type - it's either bad for PR or just not comforting to imagine. Those that don't believe in God really can't blame Him fairly, since it's not even His fault He doesn't exist. Or something like that.

But bear with me a second. Is it *possible* that God is behind this? That He was in control of what happened? That He was the author of this destruction - and even death? Might he have sent Hurricane Katrina as judgment on a city? Is it possible for the God of Love to be involved? Honestly, even writing it makes me cringe. And I'm sure reading it kind of makes you feel... uncomfortable. Like maybe you don't want to think about it too deeply. Maybe you're nonchalantly dismissing it even as you continue to read this with growing disaffection. It might make you angry to suggest it. It sounds... blasphemous. Ludicrous. Absurd.

But then again, is there precedent - biblically, I mean? Isn't that why almost every news station has referred to New Orleans as a disaster of 'biblical' proportions? It wouldn't be the first time. I'm pretty sure God was behind at least one other flood. Or take a tour through Isaiah sometime, and check out what God says he's going to do with the Babylonians. Assyrians. Cushites. The list goes on. "But that's different" we say, because that was the "old, mean God" that came before the "loving, lamby-on-his-shoulders Jesus-God." The old God was angry with lots of people because of sin, but Jesus fixed that, and God's not as pissed anymore.

A lot of Christians live with this idea of semi-bipolar God. The Old Testament God is, well, old - and outdated. Jesus is the new cat in town, and he's a lot nicer for the most part (except for the occasional ramblings about 'eating my flesh and drinking my blood' stuff). But make no mistake - it's the same God. And yes, we can theologize about 'old covenant' vs. 'new covenant' all day long, but still - what's the deal?

I need to be careful here - because the point of this blog isn't really to argue a point, as much as ask some questions that I have been mulling myself. The thesis of this blog is definitely not: "I think God is punishing the sinful wickedness of New Orleans, and... we could be next!" I'm sure you thought I was going to wrap this up nicely. Nope. I have to go to bed! I definitely have some more thoughts on all this, but I'd rather leave you mulling for now; why are we willing to acknowledge that God is at work in healing the lives torn by this disaster, but not stopping to even consider whether He could have had a hand (or the hand) involved in the disaster itself as well? This isn't a case of hijackers acting of their 'own evil will' - it was an act of nature. Is God only in control of the good things in life? Are his hands tied because he's given us free-will and we live in a fallen world? Does he let Satan run rampant causing the destruction, and just help us to clean up the mess? Is nature just nature- whimsical and deadly - because it's a fallen, imperfect world? And where does the Lucky-Charms Leprechaun fit in to all of this, with his feigned perkiness and chalky marshmallows?!? These are the questions that go through my head at 2:14 a.m., after a long day of work.

Like I said, I definitely have some thoughts on this, but I'd be interested to hear yours before- or at least get you asking some of the tough questions involved.

And on a serious note: as your mulling, if you haven't already given to the relief effort, check out this site for a great summary of some places to start. Blessings.

Top 10 Ways to Reach Ruined For Life

2005-09-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

Anyone that has a website with a decent stats program can see all of the nifty search terms that get people to their site from Google, Yahoo, and all the other engines. These search engines all function in a slightly different way, but most all of them have "robots" that constantly crawl around in the internet all day long, combing over websites for updates, carrying out assassination plots, and slowly plotting their takeover of the human race. These robots then report their findings to King Google or Queen Yahoo, and are promptly sent off again to keep looking into our business.

You'll be pleased to know, however, that these robots aren't as smart as you would think, and they're probably at least 6 months away from being able to pull off a governmental overthrow. The kinds of phrases they pick up from a site are often pulled from many different words scattered throughout a site. I get a laugh seeing not only the search terms that bring people to RFL, but the kinds of things people actually type into Google or Yahoo. Thus, I present you with: the top 10 search phrases that brought somebody to Ruined For Life. These are not altered or made up. Someone actually typed these in, and somewhere in the thousands of search results that popped up, got to my site from those search results. I sure hope they found what they were looking for... except for #9-#1. Here they are:

#10: "Where is Pacific Coast Academy Located From Zoey 101 If I Want To Join"
#9: "How Cocaine Ruined My Life"
#8: "Was serial killer ted bundy ever excommunicated from the mormon curch?"
#7: "Ruined Orgasm"
#6: "Braless blunder pictures"
#5: "Erotic Dream of Coworker"
#4: "Sex Proned Secret Society"
#3: "Husbands fart"
#2: "Is Anal Sex Unspiritual"
#1: "Truckers Hygene Video"

As a note, I would have switched #1 and #2, but frankly, it's easier (and a little less controversial) to photoshop a picture for #1. This post is meant to demonstrate that even with the best of intentions a pure, chaste, and godly site such as Ruined For Life can be accused of containing content about sex-proned secret societies of unhygienic truckers that snort cocaine and participate in possible "unspiritual" activities involving their nether-regions. Be forewarned... you never know what you’ll find here. Hopefully though, someone will someday search for something truly sick and twisted, like “Jesus” or “Chris Van Velzer,” and they’ll end up here. (Google my name: RFL doesn’t even turn up until the 3rd or 4th page!). Oh well – you’re welcome to stay, however you got here. Probably.

Smoking Out With Jesus

2005-09-01T01:06:00.000-07:00

I've found myself reflecting on more topics than I realistically have time to write about. These topics, to name a few, include the war in Iraq and Christian views of war/pacifism, the abstinence/virginity movement, the Christian idea of "the one" when it comes to love and marriage, and whether or not something as awful as gnome theft could strike my safe, suburban cocoon. I am, admittedly, a backlogged blogger, and RFL has seen a little less action than usual primarily because September is a personal tour of sleepless chaos and fun at work, which, when mixed with finishing my last class in the MBA program, is a cocktail for no website love. I'll be aiming for one post of substance and one post of total fluff per week; this would be a good month to send in articles and links of interest, or to write a guest article if you are so inclined! For now I've chosen a slightly unconventional topic, but one I consider vital in my relationship with God: cigars.

This is not a joke. I believe that God dwells in cigars. Some of you might not believe me, but it's in the Bible. Look at Exodus 19:18, which clearly states, "Mount Sinai was covered with smoke [from Moses' Montecristo No. 2], because the Lord descended on it in fire." Some say the relevant portion of this verse was inserted by someone other than Moses himself, but it is obviously accurate since all of the letters that make up the word "cigar" can also be found scattered throughout the entire Bible.

The other night, Corrie and I had just gotten back from spending some time with friends playing one of the most addicting games known to man. As I got home, I found myself growing increasingly anxious about all kinds of things: things that were coming up that I needed to do, decisions that needed to be made but that had vague answers and information for, things I wished I had done, things I wished I had time to do, and the fact that I had just pooped my own pants yet again. I tried to go to bed, and Corrie, picking up on the subtle cues of my clenched jaw and numbed stare, prayed for me - I just had no peace. As I lay in bed, the anxiety just seemed to get worse, and as I felt more and more restless, I decided I needed to go for a walk. On my way out, I grabbed a cigar. Granted, it wasn't the cigar pictured at right (which, incidentally, is the cigar mentioned in the Bible), but for anyone that know or cares, it was a particularly tasty alternative: the Hoyo De Monterrey Excalibur No. III (Maduro).

I went to one of the highest points on campus called the "Hero's Garden," which overlooks the University and much of Malibu. As I alternated between slowly pacing and sitting on a bench, I started telling God all the things that were weighing on me. What's up with this? I'm freaked out about that. And what the heck are You up to in this other situation? I knew He was there, I knew He was listening, and more than having all the answers, I became instantly aware of how none of the things I was worried about merited the attention I was giving to them. Our conversation is usually light; my talks with God in these times are not prolific, complicated conversations. Much of it is not even verbally communicated between us; it is simply felt and enjoyed. It may seem strange to say it, but I knew unequivocally that He was there enjoying my cigar with me, and it was more than enough to enjoy the profound simplicity of being with one another.

I think God is always speaking - and in all honesty, I just don't do well with structured time of prayer. That's a personal preference; I don't think there is anything wrong with having a traditional "quiet time," but for me, it just feels too impersonal and, well, structured. I don't really structure time with friends or family. I don't talk to them with an agenda of what needs to be discussed or what is going on with me. We just have relationship, and we share life together. It's much the same with God. And I think structuring time can lead us to compartmentalize when we go to Him, and even when we are aware of His presence in everything we do. He's always there. Worship and prayer are as simple and natural as talking and expressing our delight with who He is right there, right then. Although some will surely call me a heretic for saying so, it could be said that Jesus died so that we could share the proverbial "cigar" with Father anytime - and really, that is where my heart is being led; acknowledging Him in all things and at all times.

I don't just have a cigar when I'm freaking out; often, it's just because Corrie is out of town and I know she won't have to put up with the morning after, dead-cat-in-my-mouth aftertaste of a cigar. In college as an RA, I kept a humidor full of cigars for the guys in my hall, and we would smoke on average, once every week or two. Just a few weeks ago I enjoyed an incredibly memorable time of fellowship out in the middle of a lake with two of my best friends, Andrew Brumme and Jonathan Bakewicz, smoking Cuban cigars that Andrew might have possibly smuggled back from Europe. It is always a time of tremendous fellowship and sharing, because it allows us to slow down enough to really refocus on what is important and share our hearts openly with each other and God. I don't smoke cigars all that often anymore- and it's certainly not the only time I enjoy spending with Him in this way. But when I do have the opportunity to enjoy them, either alone or with friends, I am constantly amazed at the extent to which Father can use the time to really speak to me.

So here's to each of us finding time today to smoke out with Jesus, in our own way, with or without a cigar. Though preferably with, since it's more biblical that way. And, here is a reminder that you can personally contribute to my "time with God" as a graduation present come December (Excalibur No. III, Maduro).

Totally Unspiritual Post of the Week, #6

2005-08-23T16:19:00.000-07:00

I consider myself someone who revels in pranks. Pranks (that don't harm anyone... permanently) appeal to that rebel-without-a-cause in all of us, and can be great for building rapport with friends and or getting fired and/or incarcerated. Pranks are also very biblical - they're everywhere in scriptures. For example, when God made the animals, the Chihuahua was a prank - unfortunately, this was omitted by a careless Judean scribe, which is why no one in Malibu understands their dog is a cosmic joke. Jesus probably loved pranks, which is why there are stories about him making fig trees shrivel up, rubbing mud in people's eyes, and inventing the whoopie cusion. Some of the pranks I have personally played a part in include:

The Road-Block: I don't recommend this, but I like to think it was before I got to college and learned how to be responsible. Mainly perpetrated with a high-school friend, Mike Kirsch, this involved collecting parking cones, caution tape, and detour signs from construction sites, and (around 3 or 4 a.m.) blocking off El Toro Road (one of the "main" roads in Lake Forest where I went to High School) without any obvious detours. We would try to do this in a stretch of road where there was a median and no place to turn around. Usually, we would find a place to park nearby to watch what people would do. We also discovered that parking cones, when run over, will drag themselves under the car, and then right themselves when you back-up. How convenient!

Balancing Mattress: In our residence halls, I figured out that mattresses were supported by 3 or 4 slats of wood. The slats could be removed, however, and the mattress could be carefully balanced on the lip of the bed frame, giving the appearance of everything being normal - until you sat on the bed, which is when you would fall through the frame on to the floor, or bunk-bed beneath you.

The Small-Timer: These were little, fun pranks. Usually, they involved my two college friends, Chuck Engelmann and Greg Campbell, who were both RA's, and, as such, often left their room door open and unattended. This was convenient for sneaking into their rooms whenever I had a particularly large poo to get rid of (and not flushing it), or writing things like "I love sweaty Asian boys" on their laptop screen-savers or bathroom mirrors. With Chuck being an avid journaler, it also included writing some type of significant confession (like a particular fondness for Asian boys) on some page in the middle of his journal.

The Fish Fan: At some point, some people I lived with in the residence halls at college tried to "prank me" by stapling a piece of fish underneath the couch in my suite. After a day or two, I noticed our usual suite smell of rotten cabbage had taken on the distinct odor of decomposing fish, and discovered their plan. Somehow, the fish was taken to the perpetrators bathroom, and after unscrewing the heat fan/lamp above the shower, left inside to continue a cycle of re-heating, rotting, and blowing said smell down into their bathroom.

The Diploma Swap: Have you ever noticed that few people really pay attention to those diplomas hanging on your wall? Sure, they might see the university name, but other than that, it's just a bunch of "herewiths" and "theretofores." That's why it can be really fun to scan a friend's diploma, change a few minor details, re-hang it in the frame, and see how long it takes them to notice it. It's also fun to occasionally send people into the office to look at it while they are there, and say things like, "Oh, so you graduated from Azusa Pacific I see...". This took Michael Houston, a coworker of mine, several weeks to notice- and it was only because someone started snickering when I had sent them in. Click the image to enlarge it.

The Dixie-Cup: This prank was performed with Jessie Price, a friend from Pepperdine. He was dating a girl at the time that lived in some apartments off campus, and whom he was engaged in a prank-war with. They had started with small stuff, and at some point it escalated to things like him breaking into her house and removing absolutely every edible item (which was then donated in the church foodbank), and finally her removing the wheels from his car and placing it on cinder blocks while he was in church. In retaliation for the latter, Jesse managed to get a copy of her apartment key without her knowledge, and over the course of time, befriended the guard at the gate to her apartment complex.

One night, when his girlfriend was scheduled to be at a concert until 4 am, we went to Ralph’s and purchased 3,000 mini Dixie cups (no exaggeration). We then were waved through the gate by Jesse's guard-friend, got into her apartment, and proceeded to stack every piece of furniture against the far wall. In the back, bottom corner, we were careful to leave the stereo system plugged in, with a "Village People" album inside the cd tray. This was a complex operation, and involved accessing detailed architectural designs for the building, and mapping out every aspect of the operation. (click it to enlarge):

Over the course of the next 4-5 hours, we carefully placed each of the Dixie cups on the floor between the front door and all of the furniture. Each cup was filled with water, and stapled to the cups surrounding it. Just enough room was left to open the front door to the apartment; otherwise, every inch of the floor had a Dixie cup on it.

Before leaving, we used the remote to turn on the buried stereo, and left "YMCA" on repeat.

I'd be interested to hear of some other pranks people have partaken in. There is a certain comradery to be had in sharing these stories and triumphs of devious creativity.

**Disclaimer: This post was inspired after stumbling across the story of a particularly elaborate prank involving an e-bayer who was fraudulently trying to purchase an iMac Powerbook through a scam escrow service. With the help of the internet, donations, and a network of people across the globe, this crook was put in his place many, many times over. Love it!

Pass on the Pastor

2005-08-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

In my web-wanderings, I came across an absolutely fantastic article on Pastors. I've often wondered how the transition from the "upper-room" to "Saddleback Community Church" took place historically. What were the key points that took the church from being a relatively organic, messy, heretically-proned movement to the established Roman Catholic Church, to the "reformed" Protestant church? I knew that it obviously happened gradually, but seriously; If we stepped into a gathering of believers in mid-first century, how would it have been different - and would we have ever met "the Pastor" at the door as we left the building? Would he have been at the lox-n-bagel potluck afterward? Well, this artivle provides a very good overview of the journey that brought us from there to here, and has some extremely provoking points to make.

Some nuggets that were particularly interesting:

"The word 'Pastors' does appear in the NT: 'And he gave some as apostles, and some as prophets, and some as evangelists, and some as PASTORS and teachers (Ephesians 4:11, NASB).' ... This is the only verse in the NT where the word “Pastor” is used.[3] One solitary verse is a mighty scanty piece of evidence on which to hang the entire Protestant faith! In this regard, there is more Biblical authority for snake handling than there is for the modern Pastor. (Mark 16:18 and Acts 28:3-6 both mention handling snakes. So snake handling wins out two verses to one verse.)"
...
"If the modern Pastor was absent from the early church, where did he come from? And how did he rise to such a prominent position in the Christian faith? It is a painful tale, the roots of which are tangled and complex. Those roots reach as far back as the fall of man. With the fall came an implicit desire in man to have a physical leader to bring him to God. For this reason, human societies throughout history have consistently created a special spiritual caste of religious icons. The medicine man, the shaman, the rhapsodist, the miracle worker, the witch-doctor, the soothsayer, the wise-man, and the priest have all been with us since Adam’s blunder."
...
"At the time of this writing, there are reportedly more than 500,000 Pastors serving churches in the U.S. Of this mass number, consider the following statistics that lay bare the lethal danger of the pastoral office:

* 94% feel pressured to have an ideal family.

* 90% work more than 46 hours a week.

* 81% say they have insufficient time with their spouses.

* 80% believe that pastoral ministry affects their family negatively.

* 70% do not have someone they consider a close friend.

* 70% have lower self-esteem than when they entered the ministry.

* 50% feel unable to meet the needs of the job.

* 80% are discouraged or deal with depression.

* 40%+ report that they are suffering from burnout, frantic schedules, and unrealistic expectations.

* 33% consider pastoral ministry an outright hazard to the family.

* 33% have seriously considered leaving their position in the past year.

* 40% of pastoral resignations are due to burnout.

* Roughly 30% to 40% of religious leaders eventually drop out of the ministry and about 75% go through a period of stress so great that they seriously consider quitting.

* Most Pastors are expected to juggle 16 major tasks at once. And most crumble under the pressure. For this reason, 1,600 ministers in all denominations across the U.S. are fired or forced to resign each month. Over the past 20 years, the average length of a pastorate has declined from seven years to just over two years!"
...

Incidentally, all of the statistics and historical references are cited extensively (I believe there are 249 endnotes). It's lengthy, and, I'll warn you in advance - it certainly levels quite a salvo against the prevailing perception of the "Pastor" model. Much of the information in the article I already knew, some I did not. But it is nice for all of it to be in one central place.

I'd be especially interested in comments on this one, for those that take the time to read it.

Blessings to you all!

Read the full article here, "The Pastor: Where Did He Come From?"

The Confession

2005-08-07T21:04:00.000-07:00

This post has been on my conscience for awhile now. It's time that I put this out there, because I feel that as long as I don't say it, I'm being dishonest with anyone who has seen this site. But it's not just me; there are a lot of men that need to publicly confess what I am about to confess. I know what you're thinking, but this time, it's not about my third nipple. I own an XBOX. I am a grown man, and I still play video games. This is my burden.

"I have long feared that my sins would come back to visit me and the cost is more than I can bear." We all know what Mel Gibson meant when he said these lines at the beginning of The Patriot. Mel, like most of us, started gaming when he was just a young lad. For me, it started with my friend's Nintendo when we lived in Nebraska. He even had the little robot that played along with us, and even though it only worked on one game (the original Mario Brothers?) its message was clear: by the time we were adults, we'd be marrying robot wives that would game along with us. My Dad was what I have learned in business school to call an "early adopter" when it came to computers; while most people were still getting over how cool it was to record a tape with a VCR, we had the original Macintosh at home. 10" of gorgeous black and white screen, and hours of fun with Mac Paint (woah, draw a circle again!). I discovered my first flight simulator (Falcon 4.0), the text-based Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Crystal Quest, Return to Dark Castle, and The Space Quest Series while living in England. Final Fantasy III was Jr. High, Civilization II, James Bond, and NFL Blitz were college. Those were years of life, fun, and at least 13,000 deaths.

I have many adult male friends that, when prodded, will sheepishly reveal that they too, still like to game. It's like there is a secret society, and once it's discovered that you both know the handshake, you suddenly have a lot in common. Usually, it's first acknowledged as a no big deal. "Oh sure. I have an XBOX. That Halo 2 game seems pretty cool. Don't have much time to play it though. Work and all." Gradually, it becomes apparent that jobs, sleep, wives, food - everything is structured to support the closet habit. Yep - that nice, successful, accomplished guy you danced with at the wedding this weekend? He’s probably known as "DarkOverlordGonadMashr" online. This society is about as understood amongst women as the neuro-sciences are amongst single-celled organisms. They just don't understand why we enjoy spending our time interacting with a character on a screen, building an empire with enough "Legion" units to conquer the known universe, or shooting at one another online until the invisible in-game commentator unaffectedly groans, "KILLTACULAR."

And I struggle with whether it's something to be ashamed of, or just accepted as a totally ok recreational activity. I mean, I definitely do lots of other “productive” things, and it's not my main recreational activity. But then, how do I retain any dignity admitting that I had a blast this weekend playing game that involved sailing around as a pirate that I (jokingly) named "Capt. Fauntleroy?" Trust me - the game has everything that is fun and cool... pirates, ship battles, dueling, raids, plundering, even wooing the governor's daughter... it's awesome. But is that twinge of guilt from the indulgence to play merited or imposed?

I've come to conclude that it is imposed, and it's okay to enjoy playing these games in moderation, just like most other things (including time spent on this website, for example). This is evident in as much as right now, it's my little dark secret, but when I have kids, I'll be the coolest, most endearing dad around. "My dad can get a headshot on your dad. No seriously- he can. In Halo 5...". Frankly, it's a larger issue of freedom for me, spiritually speaking. If "that which is not done in faith is sin," I want to do it in faith and freedom. I want to be able to play a video game or enjoy a totally mindless action flick without feeling guilty for wasting time, because after all, it is for freedom's sake that Christ set us free. Freedom "just because" - not so we could fit someone's bill of what it means to be "productive." That's amazing. What is productive, anyway? I think it has to do with being thankful in all things, and looking for God in everything we're doing. Some might see that as a cop-out, but I think there is much to discover there. We live in a tyranny of "shoulds." I'd rather live with something closer to "holla!"

We web site people tend to put our best foot forward, which, for computer geeks, is often purple, furry, and tied to a keychain. We choose what content we want to post and what witty subjects we would like to write about. Oh sure, you might think it's easy to sit in our mansions overlooking the ocean, firing off blogs that are humorous, intelligent, moving, and full of incredibly interesting news stories or random links to sites that will captivate you for hours, but the reality is - we filter it all. We're not always witty people. Sometimes we're awfully boring or regular - and let me tell you, I am very regular after a mocha and a breakfast bowl of Kashi GoLean. We sometimes wake up just like the rest of the world, go to the bathroom, and then realize we're still dreaming and have just... oh come on - we've all done it. But what kind of fool would ever admit such a thing in a blog? Who would ever be so stupid as to reveal their secret bedwetting sins to the world?!?

I don't want to make generalizations here, because all people who do are idiots, but it can be a challenge for many, including myself, to write about those things we are not proud to trumpet to the world. I've just confessed a trait that is socially unflattering by many standards. I hope we all find the freedom from those standards today... especially if we're a pirate named Capt. Fauntleroy. Blessings, love, and if you ever run across “PariahRedeemed” on XBOX live... be afraid. Be very afraid. Then send me a friend request.

Lessons From My First Year of Marriage

2005-08-03T11:19:00.000-07:00

As promised earlier, I said I would write a blog to impart some of the wisdom I have carefully gathered from my first year of marriage. These are not generic axioms, mind you; these conclusions are the result of careful, scientific observation and the application of Newton's First Law of Motion, which states: "Husbands inherently seek to keep their office in a state of chaos, even under the pretense of 'cleaning' and 'organizing.'" This is not to be confused with Newton's Third Law of Motion, which, as you well know, states: "For every husband's fart, there is an equal and opposite fart in retaliation from the wife, although usually in secrecy and silence."

The fundamental premise of this blog is simple: marriage is good. This statement comes with several qualifiers, however:

1) Marriage is good when God is involved. This really goes without saying, because I'm not sure marriage would make any sense apart from Him. In a society and culture that relishes in individualism and doing what's best for #1, making a lifetime commitment to love someone - not only for who they are right now, but for who they will continually become or not become - doesn't seem very intuitive. It's been said that in this sense, marriage is like signing an blank contract that gets filled out as you go along. What hasn't been said before now is that the contract is with a septic tank cleaning service. If God's your maintenance man, you can trust He'll faithfully clean out the crap, and keep that puppy healthfully fertilizing a whole garden of flowers. If some guy named "Spuds" is your maintenance man, then you'll be swimming in your own stuff before you can say "poo-bath."

2) Marriage is good when married to the right person. Fortunately for me, I married the right person. Corrie is by all standards, smarter, better-looking, more athletic, and much better at reaching a zen-like state wherein she can become one with every task that needs to be done in the entire universe, at any given moment in the space-time continuum. I loved and respected Corrie before we were married. However, the best part of marriage for me so far has been the reality of coming to love and respect her even more in the last year. There are times when I will literally be taken aback at the way she can handle a situation with grace, diffuse one of my moods, and avoid sticky surfaces in the kitchen. You'll note, in the picture on the left, that all of these qualities can be observed: beauty, intelligence, athleticism, and a chipmunk-like ferocity in tackling life.

3) Marriage is good in that it is also like taking a cheese-grater to that thing we call "selfishness."

This 'lil guy stayed hidden in a closet for almost 10 years, and learned to defend himself from the Doberman-rats. Needless to say, he was a little "irritated" when he finally came out...

Ah... there is nothing so refreshing as watching those shavings of self-centered epidermis fly away with every realization that you are very blessed to have ended up with someone like your spouse. Selfishness tends to bury itself in a person like a small child playing hide-and go seek in a mansion. It waits and waits, and doesn't come out until you've finally determined it must not be hiding anymore, or that it starved to death and was eaten by Doberman-sized rats. Just when you go about your other business though, it leaps out of the closet, and makes up for its lost nap-times and cheese-crackers by systematically making your peaceful afternoon a tantrum-hell. It's amazing - it really is.

4) Marriage is good, but it is especially good when connected telepathically to the non-verbal feminine communications database, which is located in a secret bunker somewhere in Colorado. All women must go here to train in non-verbal communication skills at some point, which is why men are usually less than adept at picking up on their invisible signals, which are communicated at frequencies that most televisions and bats can pick up. Incidentally, is why I can often be seen wearing television antennae.

5) The answer to every question is simultaneously "yes," "no" and "simple green." No idea what that means, but ask any married guy, and he'll tell you it's very, very true.

Well, that's it. Overall, I give marriage an A+ for excitement, cool Holy-Spirit effects, meaningful emotional intimacy, and funny farting moments.

An Ode To Moving

2005-07-22T17:28:00.000-07:00

We've all done it at least once in our lives (starting with our exit from the womb). Moving. Surely, hell is a place where you continually accumulate more and more posessions, which you must pack, unpack, and move to a smaller space every single day for an eternity. As you've guessed, Corrie and I are finally "moved out" of our old apartment, which is distinctly different than being "moved in" to our new one.

For this reason, I have decided to dedicate this blog to the travesty of moving. It is something I have done 15 times in the last 8 years - and I think each time I have had at least slightly more stuff to move. This isn't our last move, certainly- in fact, we'll probably be moving again in just about a year. This time around, moving was exciting because we got to add "furniture" and a wide range of gifts that we received for our wedding to our list of posessions. Yes, coming from my previous "bachelor" moves, this relocation has been a little different. Whereas in my single years, I subsisted mostly on top ramen and orange peels that required no cooking tools other than tap water and fingernails, we now have 2 cuisinarts for cooking, both of which are still in original factory packaging and boxes. Whereas before, I could sweep the wood shavings I slept on into the garbage, we have to rent a truck to fit the king-sized, double-pillowtop mattress. Life has changed, and with it, moving has become even more of a nightmare.

I will begin my homage to moving with a few short haikus. You’ll remember that a haiku consists of a three-lined verse, with 5, 7, and 5 syllables in each respective line. I recommend composing haikus for just about all situations. The word “haiku” is most likely the Japanese equivalent of “achoo,” or the sound one makes in an American sneeze. They are supposed to be a source of healing by “sneezing out” one’s emotions and thoughts into a booger-like poem.

Moving worse than hell
Crap packed in boxes galore
Makes me hate my life

Where is it all from
Crap, crap, crap, crappity crap
Knee-deep I wallow

Too crappy to love
Too worthless for donation
Precious junk, I pack

The special thing about moving is that, not only do you get to pack all of your possessions, but those possessions then get to be unpacked shortly after. Usually, just around the time that you are finally done getting things unpacked over the course of a year or decade, it is time to pack it all up again. Some cultures believe that once a house is unpacked, evil moving demons will arrange for a work reassignment, just so that you can never be truly settled. This is why it is always smart to leave at least one room in your residence totally unfinished. Preferably with large crucifixes on the wall.

Below are some pictures of our “new” and “comfortable” apartment. Unlike the common belief that more space is better, we are downsizing by several hundred square feet and a garage, which means that these pictures reflect the way our apartment will probably stay throughout our residence. The good news, of course, is that our new apartment is currently as moving-demon-proof as it could be.

The first picture is our kitchenette/living room/dining room.

And of course, the most important room in the apartment: the office/guestroom/junkyard. Yes, that’s a box in the front labeled: “Family photos, 1971-1990.”

Everyone should know their moving quotient, which is the number of times they have moved divided by the number of years they have been alive. Mine is .923, meaning I have moved 24 times in my 26 years of life. It’s a great conversation starter at bars, and something impressive to cite on your resume. Anyone that is over the age of 21 and that has a moving quotient of 1 is usually qualified to hold just about any top-level job in the government, and can always get a job with “Starving Students,” a moving service that is notorious for crappy help, trucks that break down, and over-qualified subjects for deodorant-testing companies.

Here’s hoping we can call stay put for awhile; and just for the heck of it, I’d recommend packing up at least one box-load of stuff just to keep the spirit of unwanted moves far, far away. Once we get settled a little more, I’ll write about something profound and serious. Until then, you can come into my world by taking a dump in a box, labeling it “crap,” and adding it to our piles.

Totally Unspiritual Posts of the Week, #5

2005-07-15T17:06:00.000-07:00

This week's unspiritual post is making up for a little lost love. I actually am putting up TWO things for your viewing pleasure.

The first is something you might just want to print out right now: the official rules to calling "shotgun" in a car. All my friends and coworkers can consider themselves warned: I am now going to be a rule-nazi (or 'gaper,' as you'll read in the rule book) when it comes to claiming shotgun.

You can find the link to Shotgun Rules here.

Some of my favorite rules include:
The Deed Must Be Done Before Shotgun May Be Called
For these rules to work properly, it is essential for you to understand and accept the concept of the "Deed". Shotgun may only be called after the "deed is done". Simply stated, the deed is any activity or objective that directly precedes the ride in the automobile. The deed can be anything ranging from a visit at a friend's house, to a shopping trip at the mall, to a visit to the Grand Canyon. We cannot stress how important this is because this establishes a Shotgun-calling time frame that ensures everyone has an equal chance of recognizing when to call Shotgun. There is no crime greater than calling Shotgun on Monday in reference to the ride to the concert on Friday. Some people choose to play this way, and they are fools.

Significant Others
This is the most important exception. If a significant other (SO) is included in the group of automobile passengers and this person is the SO or potential SO of the driver, then they get automatic Shotgun privileges.

The Barefoot Rule
Since you must be outside to call Shotgun, some people will just grab their shoes, jump outside, and call Shotgun before putting their shoes on. This has been deemed "gaping", and is not a legal procedure. You must have your shoes on, if you choose to wear any, before you may call Shotgun.

The second post comes my way via a good friend I have in law school at Northwestern right now, to whom I will assign the alias "Rick Miltimore" to protect his identity. "Rick" is studying feudal property law, and was working on a class-action lawsuit involving a counterfeit shipment of goat dung when he came across a very interesting case:

Today I found a case from 1971 whereby a Pennsylvania man sued Satan (and his Staff) basically for interfering with his constitutional rights. At first the court worried that they couldn't obtain jurisdiction (because the Plaintiff never alleged that the Defendant lived in the jurisdiction) but then found an unofficial report of a trial wherein Satan, acting as Plaintiff, filed an action of mortgage forclosure in New Hampshire. Here is a brief excerpt from the case summary:

"Plaintiff sought leave to proceed in forma pauperis on a complaint filed against defendant chief fallen angel. Plaintiff alleged that defendant had threatened him, caused him misery, impeded his course in life, and generally precipitated his downfall, which injuries, plaintiff alleged, rose to constitutional dimension.

Stating its reservations regarding whether the alleged interferences with plaintiff's life stated a claim for which relief could be granted and questioning whether the court could obtain jurisdiction over defendant chief fallen angel, the court denied plaintiff's application for leave to proceed in forma pauperis. The court explained that the complaint failed to allege facts, at least as to defendant's residence within the district, which would support jurisdiction. The court noted an unofficial report of a prior appearance by defendant in a United States court as a party plaintiff, but questioned whether this was enough to establish jurisdiction by estoppel. Additionally, if it allowed the present action, the court stated that it would then face the issue of whether it would be better maintained as a class action. The court found the requirements of Fed. R. Civ. P. 23 appeared to be met, but questioned whether plaintiff was an appropriate representative of the putative class. Finally, the court noted that the complaint lacked instructions for service of process, leaving the court no choice but to refuse plaintiff's prayer for relief."

FYI - Under Counsel where it says "Pro Se," that means P represented himself. I'm shocked he couldn't find a lawyer to prsoecute his case, but I guess there was a conflict of interest.

On that note, do you ever worry about your government or the people you share your voting rights with? -Rick

You can download the entire case summary here.

I'm so disappointed to see that these hard earned tax dollars weren't even enough to bring a legitimate lawsuit against Satan himself. I mean, if there is good documentation on anyone doing bad stuff, it's got to be him.

Corrie and I return from our one-year anniversary weekend on Monday night. I should have some great pictures to post Tuesday when I return, but until then, be... well, just be.

Acting the Part: Losing A Desire for Significance

2005-07-12T16:02:00.000-07:00

First off, it's been a rough week of moving for Corrie and I, which is the biggest reason that I haven't gotten in any updates this week. So, you can call off the police if you filed a missing person's report, and whoever sent their mafia duo Guido and Guano should know that my cat-like ninja reflexes were a little too much for their "kneecap-baseball-bat-massage." Anyway, thanks for the flowers - I'm back.

This blog topic has been mulling around in my head for quite awhile now, but really was apparent to me after a counseling session I had today. That said, today's blog begins with people I know who are pursuing acting or music careers. Living in LA and knowing at least a dozen people who are working/ trying to work in the entertainment industry go togther like a prune espresso and diarrhea, after all. I have many close friends, and even close family that are in the entertainment industry (just Google "Jill Van Velzer"). I just had lunch this past weekend with one of several friends from high school that is pursuing the dream, and can probably count on all 10 fingers and toes how many fingers and toes that I have (that wasn't related to anything here, it's just an impressive talent I have).

I should also mention that this example of a career field is not entirely unremoved from being personal to me. Yea, in high school and even some in college, I too, participated in several "headline" shows that were almost "internationally acclaimed." My whole family is, in fact, very musical, and although I probably ended up in the shallower end of the gene pool when it comes to talent, if I put on trainer floaties I can at least venture out into the deep end on occasion. For whatever reason, although I inherently enjoy performing as a pure art form (i.e, when I'm getting paid to do it), I never got the "bug" to pursue it for a living. In fact, I think that in some tweaked-out way, if I ever had to do it for a living, I would start to loathe it. I really do consider this a blessing for me, personally, because although I can still enjoy doing it occasionally, I don't feel like I am betraying an inner calling in life not to pursue it professionally.

But there is another regard in which I feel blessed not to be "bitten" with the bug. This is where I am going to offer a statement for anyone reading this that is in the industry: I respect you and what you are trying to accomplish tremendously. The primary reason I am grateful I don't feel like I "should" be pursuing some type of similar career is because I'm not sure I could handle it even if I did - I'm afraid I would run away from that calling like Forrest did from the mean boys throwing rocks. If anything I say below discourages you - please don't let it. I'm really just trying to reflect on something that I've been thinking about for some time.

Although I have many friends in the industry, really, the focus of my thoughts involve my Christian friends in the industry. The reason for this is because Christians in the industry, by enlarge, feel specifically "called" to their career. By "called," I am referring to a God-given sense of purpose in life, fundamentally because there is the sense or knowledge that it relates to the very reason God created you the way He did. It relates to the deep and meaningful fulfillment of gifts that you have been given for a particular purpose. I would argue that everyone has a calling - sometimes that may be to a particular career, and sometimes just to a "type" of work.

The thing with Christian callings in the entertainment industry, however, is that most are not just tied to being in the entertainment industry, but rather having a particular role in helping to transform the entertainment industry itself into something... well, more "Godly." This is usually amplified depending on the extent to which a person is part of a more charismatic church, where I have known many people sum up their calling to acting or performing as "I feel that God has called me to be in the entertainment industry to influence the influencers of Hollywood." If explored a little, this often (though not always) involves them feeling like they are going to achieve a significant level of success within the industry that will give them the means and relationship to do this. We're not talking the success of Pauly Shores here. We're talking: Mel Gibson. Julia Roberts. Madonna. Denzel Washington. Nicole Kidman. Tom Cruise. After all, just look at the positive impact Tom Cruise's passion for Scientology has had on the industry. Practically everyone (and by everyone, I mean Katie Holmes) is converting. If only they were on the right page - think of the influence they would have on peers, viewers, and intelligent, impressionable chimpanzees... (or so the theory goes).

So most (and again, not all) really don't just want a few parts here and there; they want a career in the industry. And even more than a career in the industry (which is no small achievement, mind you - to remain gainfully employed in the 'biz' with any regularity), they want to be the very best - a star or supporting lead in a movie, TV series, or up for at least one Grammy. It's really not about the art form; it's about success in the art form - fabulous, star-level success. It's not just success for its own sake...it is success that is ultimately for a 'greater good,' but it must be success. Very few, when pressed, would say that they would be personally satisfied doing local community theater or extra work in movies or commercials for the span of their career. For some, this is unthinkable anyway - because after all, they are called not just to be in the industry, but to be fabulously successful and influential (for the Glory of God) in the industry.

I wish that I could grant any one of these people their wish. Because I think even if all of them really were called to simultaneously come to a place of fabulous success in their career, it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as they think. It would be very hard. Money pressures would be constant. Even once you've reached the "top" level - there is no place to go but down, and many fall as quickly as they rise. There is no easy way to go back to normal life after that, either - I mean, do you see Axle Rose or Molly Ringwald turning in applications for a "regular job?" Everywhere they go, they are recognized. They've made enough money to live the rest of their lives without really working (if managed right), but really - are they happy not to be working? How many top celebrities even seem to be happy people?

This blog is not fundamentally about acting or pursuing a career in the industry. I don't write all this as a penned critique of people I know in the industry - if anything, I write it as a critique of myself, and of those of use that are tyrannized by a desire for significance. This blog is about me, and a larger reflection of my own journey to give up dreams of significance. This blog, in fact, comes out of a conversation I had in a counseling session today. Because although I may not be in the industry, I do this all the time: I live with a sense that I have been uniquely designed and created for a deep, meaningful purpose, and I spend most of my time wanting to "already be there." I live in the future of what I think God will do in and through me, and totally miss being myself in the present and enjoying my Father in what He wants to do in me now. Bob Jones once said something like, "Whether your butt is chiseled and shapely, or flat and wrinkly, it's still just a butt," or something like that. It doesn't matter what we do, or how fabulously successful we are: it is about living at peace with ourselves, with a God that IS, and enjoying both in the here and now. Now that's a changed life - not one that causes others to run away screaming or looking confused. I am in a battle to remind myself of this daily - living in any other reality is a false one, and can lead to so much frustration and disappointment that is not ours to carry.

It is shocking how much dysfunction this can lead to. I have known so many (including myself at times) who have felt a profound sense of failure to live up to some standard of achievement, even when we know much better than to think it is about what we can achieve. Here's to all of us finding whatever He has for us today, right now- and not pining away for what we think He wants to give us tomorrow. And for me, right now, that's a trip to the bathroom, and probably a diet coke afterwards. Amen.

Totally Unspiritual Post of the Week, #4

2005-07-03T16:14:00.000-07:00

The best part of having a website is that suddenly, all of your friends figure out that they can send you funny or meaningful things to post on it. The worst part of having a website, of course, is that when you get an average of 25,679 unique visitors per day (that number might be slightly exaggerated by a multiple of 1,000), there is a building pressure to be extremely witty, intellectual and spiritual, all while carefully balancing one's body weight between buttcheeks so that neither can quite fall asleep in the time that it takes sitting in front of a computer to keep up a site.

I actually have an abundance of things to share for this week's "totally unspiritual" post, although I'm still only going to share one. I am almost at the point where I don't have to space them out, because I'm receiving enough every week now that I could probably put up a few at a time. So by all means, send in things that you find entertaining or meaningful, and we'll find a home for them here. Assuming you don't send things that are "funny" to you, but "stupid" to me. (Isn't it amazing that the world's most significant leap in communications has simultaneously allowed millions of people to disseminate random humor to the masses? I mean, what kept people entertained 10 years ago?)

The first is a scan of a customer complaint letter to Continental Airlines. Classic hilarity ensues:

Personally, I believe God gave us the internet precisely because it would be impractical share this letter via fax.

Happy 4th of July to everyone - I hope all the RFL readers have a safe, fun time relaxing with friends and family. And remember, only you can prevent forest fires, but any dumb kid down the street can shoot a roman candle into your cornea. I don't know why you need to remember that, mind you, but you never know when a nugget of wisdom like that might come in handy.

Virgin (near the) Atlantic: NY Pepperdine Alumni in Rolling Stones

2005-06-29T16:08:00.000-07:00

I was chatting with a coworker the other day who mentioned that a group of Pepperdine alumni we were in school with were recently featured in a Rolling Stones article. The alumni (among them Matt Dunbar, Robin Power, Anna Larson, Hillary Rushford, Brian Powell...) are all part of what has become the "New York Pepperclan" - a group of very talented theater majors who moved to the Big Apple in pursuit of fame, fortune, and the best polish dogs in the country.

Apparently, the article was picked up when the author ran into Matt Dunbar in a bar (the coincidence of last-name and location is... well, a coincidence), and somehow in the natural course of conversation about whether or not large freshwater catfish should be protected and where one can get a good polish sausage , it came up that Matt was a virgin - as were all the friends he was with. A few Coronas later, the Rolling Stones writer still couldn't believe that these good-looking men and women who were artists and actors were still virgins. Why? More so, how? What kind of sick, idealistic, bizarre freaks of the industry would subject themselves to such nightmarish torture? Apparently, it was worth an article to explore.

I went to school with these people; I sang in choir with most of them, performed with some of them, and although they are by no means my best friends, it was a delight to find this article. I will warn you, it is very much a "Rolling Stones" article - complete with language - but I think it is fascinating. It made me re-realize just how ludicrious the thought of saving your virginity until marriage would seem (and frankly, is) if God is not a factor in that journey. This article is an interesting mix of fascination, disbelief and criticism, and raises many intersting topics that I'm sure I'll be discussing in the future - including the current administration's ongoing push for "abstinence only sex-education" and some of my own thoughts on my journey of virginity until my wedding night. The article isn't a short read though, so get started here, and I'll blog more on my thoughts with the topics raised in future entries.

[side note: Jeff Sharlet, the author of the article, has written other interesting Christian-related articles for mainstream magazines in the same vein of critique/fascination. You can check out other good articles here, at TheRevealer.org, that are written by Jeff.]
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The Young & the Sexless
A New Generation of Young Men and Women is Embracing Celibate Life
By JEFF SHARLET

What if the true face of the Christian right in America is not that of Dr. James Dobson or Jerry Falwell or Pat Robertson; not that of an aging, comb-over preacher orange with pancake makeup, smiling orca rows of ungodly white teeth on The O'Reilly Factor or Hardball? Nor that of spittle-flecked Fred Phelps of Topeka, Kansas, roaring that God hates fags? What if the true face of the Christian right is, instead, that of a twenty-four-year-old religious-studies graduate student at New York University?

Matt Dunbar is a handsome young man, though his face is still ruddy with acne. He has rounded cheeks, a soul patch beneath his lips and soft eyes that hold yours like he trusts you. He's not a prude. He will say the word "fuck," but he will never, not even in the wedding bed he hopes God has prepared for his future, embody it as a verb. He will make Christian love. What most of us call sex he calls communion, and he believes it can happen only within marriage.

Chastity is a new organizing principle of the Christian right, built on the notion that virgins are among God's last loyal defenders, knights and ladies of a forgotten kingdom. Sex outside of marriage is, in the words of D. James Kennedy, pastor of the influential Coral Ridge Ministries in Florida, "an uprising against God." But if sex is the perfect enemy of the blessed lifestyle, it is also the Holy Grail for those who wait: "A symphony of the soul for married couples," according to John Hagee, author of What Every Man Wants in a Woman.

"Abstinence," says Dunbar, "is countercultural," a kind of rebellion, he says, against materialism, consumerism and "the idea that anything can be bought and sold." It is a spiritual war against the world, against "sensuality," according to one virginity manual popular with men like Dunbar. This elevation of virginity -- especially for men -- as a way of understanding yourself and your place in the world is new. It's also very old. First-century Christians took the idea so seriously that many left their wives for "house monasteries," threatening the very structure of the family. The early church responded by institutionalizing virginity through a priestly caste set apart from the world, a condition that continues to this day within Roman Catholicism. Now, though, the Protestants of the Christian right are reclaiming that two-tiered system, only they're projecting it onto individual lives, making every young man and woman part of an elite virgin corps.

"The world hasn't yet seen what God can do with an army of young men free of sexual fevers," write the authors of Every Young Man's Battle, one volume in a hugely popular series of "purity" manuals. "You can remain pure so that you might qualify for such an army."

It's a never-ending war, and not one that can be fought alone. Which is why virgins like Dunbar tend to travel in packs, to church and to Bible studies but also to parties and even to bars. Dunbar and his friends help one another stay "pure," which they consider "authentic." He lives with three close friends in a warehouse apartment in Williamsburg, a Brooklyn hipster neighborhood of artists and slackers. Two of his roommates are virgins; the other, a Mormon named Edd Lewis, is a "recycled virgin." He's had sex but won't again until he's married.

All four are from Visalia, California, a small farming city far from the coast. Dunbar's best friend in the group is Robin Power, whom he met in the ninth grade. Power's whole family looked like the ideal of Christian authenticity Dunbar had begun desiring for himself since his parents divorced when he was seven. Dunbar grew up in an Episcopal church and entered evangelicalism only after the separation; Power's family had always been zealous for God. Power's dad recorded Christian rock albums and the whole family jammed together, not like the Partridges but like Christian Ramones. Power played around town in Visalia's punk scene; Dunbar practiced the drums at home and dreamed of joining one of Power's bands.

Then, when Dunbar was fifteen, he became "convicted of secular music," which means he decided it was causing him to be sinful. He had a lot of friends who were destroying their collections, hammering their CDs or burning them or snapping each in two, but Dunbar concluded that it wasn't the music itself that was wrong, it was his own shallow response. He couldn't distinguish between the mood of the music and the meaning of the lyrics. Rage Against the Machine were all right, because they were angry and their music told you so. Sublime, with their punk-ska beat married to brooding lyrics about heroin and whores, were too advanced for him. He tossed his copy and committed himself to a painful period of Christian music. Later, he bought another copy.

When I first meet Power, he's working a gutter-punk look, a thick, dark beard and layers of ratty hoodies and buttons advertising deeply obscure bands. Faith, to him, is an ascetic discipline, its purity polished by constant self-criticism. "I can get aroused looking at a stoplight," he says, his giant eyes leaving mine and following a woman down Broadway. They snap back to me and he says, "Anything can be inappropriate. If I look at some woman and undress her with my eyes, that's just as bad as going down on her."

After church one day, Dunbar, Power and I sit on a bench and lean back in the sun and watch Sunday morning stroll by. "Cleavage everywhere," notes Dunbar, not disapprovingly. Power holds up his right hand. Wrapped around his wrist, in a figure eight, is a black plastic bracelet. "This," he says, "is a 'masturband.' " One of their friends at college -- Pepperdine University -- came up with the idea. As long as you stay pure -- resist jerking off -- you can wear your masturband. Give in, and off it goes, a scarlet letter in reverse. No masturband? No one wants to shake your hand. "It started with just four of us," says Dunbar. "Then there were, like, twenty guys wearing them. And girls too. The more people that wore them, the more people knew, the more reason you had to refrain." Dunbar even told his mother. He lasted the longest. "Eight and a half months," he says. I notice he's not wearing one now. He's not embarrassed. Sexuality, he believes, is not a private matter.

Dunbar has started dating, a gorgeous blond actress named Anna Larson - also a virgin -- and Power is engaged to a makeup artist at UCLA. She's a virgin, too. Dunbar and Larson believe in kissing, but he'll always tell Power and his other housemates if he feels tempted to push it further. Power and his fiancee sometimes get hot talking on the telephone, but afterward Power likewise confesses to Dunbar or another Christian brother. On Sundays they attend services at the Journey, a floating evangelical church. The congregation is around seventy-five percent single, most of them under thirty. Not having sex means talking about it constantly; the topic of sex and why to wait for it comes up in nearly every sermon, under titles such as "Desperate Sex Lives," "Sex and the City" and "What a Girl Wants."

One spring Sunday, the church meets in a theater on Upper Broadway. (It's since moved to a larger venue. Only three years old, the congregation is growing so fast it doesn't want to commit to real estate.) The lobby is packed and loud right up to the beginning of the service, with well-scrubbed men and women greeting one another with chaste sideways hugs. Body to body, chest to chest, says Power, is just too enticing.

Church takes place on a stage set for a play. Half of every service features the Journey band, a competent ensemble that sets hymns to grunge and emo arrangements. During my visit, I can't take my eyes off the three female backup singers, especially a redhead on the right, swinging her hips in loose cargo pants that are nonetheless tight in the ass. She's braless and grooving, way too sexy for church, shooting a single finger over her head -- the "One Way" Jesus sign Billy Graham embraced more than thirty years ago.

Since then, the Christian right has steadily reinvented itself by co-opting the language of the sexual revolution. Pastor Nelson Searcy, a roly-poly thirty-three-year-old Jimmy Buffett fan who moved from California, "called" by God as a pastor to New York, preaches not in a suit or a collar but in a hipster's bowling shirt, and he references his Bible as often as he shows trailer clips from contemporary movies like The Stepford Wives and The Notebook. But the message remains the same: a laundry list of fundamentalist prohibitions rephrased in PowerPoint alliteration. The three proper passions -- God's presence, God's people and God's plan - combined with purity equals power. Power is the objective, the strength to stay "pure" in a world full of sexed-up heathens.

A few days earlier, Dunbar says, he'd gone to a bar with "secular friends." They all got a little buzzed -- the Bible is big on wine, he points out -- and began talking about sex. "Dunbar," volunteered one of the secular guys, "is a virgin." The guy was laughing. "By choice," the guy added.

Which was a huge mistake, notes Dunbar. All female eyes left the man who wanted their attention and rotated Dunbar's way. Four girls surrounded him, demanding to know everything. Was he embarrassed? ("I'd only be embarrassed if I was trying to get some.") Is oral OK? Anal? Hand jobs? (He doesn't like to be "legalistic," caught up in rules, and he has friends who had enjoyed anal sex and still call themselves virgins, but - no.) Has he always been a virgin? ("Uh, yeah. That's what 'virgin' means.") Why? (Jesus, romance, it all blends together.)

One of Dunbar's roommates once found himself in a similar situation, Dunbar tells me. He'd had a harder time deflecting the attention, until one woman had moved in for the kill. "Sex is something I just do," she'd said, and then took a chip off a plate of nachos. "Like eating." If she'd had a chance of bagging Dunbar's virgin comrade, she'd lost it there. "The whole sex/ nacho thing?" Dunbar tells me. "It just doesn't make sense to a virgin."

Food, in fact, is the opposite of sex among most Christian virgins. Food, after all, belongs to the material world. Sex, on the other hand, is supernatural. They read the biblical Song of Solomon -- lovers rhapsodizing over each other, he obsessed with her breasts like "two fawns" and her "rounded thighs like jewels"; she with his legs like "alabaster columns" and his lips like lilies, "dripping sweet-smelling myrrh" -- not as erotica but as a metaphor for the love between man and God. Sex that is just two bodies in motion strikes them as empty, even if love is involved. Every encounter must be a kind of threesome: man, wife and the Lord. Without that, it's just fucking.

Suckers for romance," leslee Unruh, the founder of Abstinence Clearinghouse, describes men like Dunbar and Power. She means that as praise, because she considers virgins revolutionaries. "We want authenticity," she says. "We want what's real." Unruh launched Abstinence Clearinghouse in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, in 1997. She had been a self-declared "chastity" educator since the early Eighties, but it wasn't until the Clinton years that the Christian right fully discovered sex as a weapon in the culture wars, and Unruh began working with conservative politicians.

Abstinence Clearinghouse acts as a nexus for activists and as their voice in Washington, claiming as "our friends" a who's who of the GOP's hard-right edge, Karl Rove, Sen. Rick Santorum, Sen. Sam Brownback and a slew of officials with unrecognizable names and a great deal of money to work with, abstinence crusaders in the departments of Health and Human Services and of Education. Abstinence Clearinghouse brings these people together with activists at conferences, "purity balls" and abstinence teas. It sponsors "Faces of Abstinence" around the country, good-looking young men and women who work the Christian lecture circuit spreading the no-sex gospel.

The Clearinghouse has been working with the federal Centers for Disease Control, in part to establish a "gold standard" for abstinence-only sex-education programs in public schools. Meanwhile, this year the Bush administration is backing the movement with $167 million in public funds. By statute, these programs are secular, but Unruh considers herself broad-minded enough to work within those guidelines. If religion is to be kept out of the schools, she says, "shame and conscience" are important tools in its place. But romance, more than anything else, guides her understanding of sexuality. This is what she finds romantic: a father who gives his teenage daughter a "purity" ring, which will be returned on her wedding day and handed to his daughter's new husband, her virginity passed from man to man like a baton.

Therein lies the paradox of the virginity movement. It is at once an attempt to transcend cultural influences through the timelessness of Scripture and a painfully specific response to the sexual revolution. The "women's lib" movement, Dunbar believes, preached a message of self-satisfaction: "Do what you want." It is, in his view and that of many in the virginity movement, a product of the same cultural mindset that produced America's booming porn industry. Both are based on instant gratification: women obsessed with winning the privileges of men rather than learning to enjoy the pleasures of Christian submission, men demanding the fast-food sexuality of explicit imagery.

But it's not just feminism that's to blame. It's also what the Christian right sees as an effeminized church. "Christianity, as it currently exists, has done some terrible things to men," writes John Eldredge, the author of a best-selling manhood guide called Wild at Heart. He thinks that church life in America has pacified Christian men and made them weak. Women who are frustrated with their girlie-man husbands and boyfriends seize power, and the men retreat to the safe haven of porn instead of whipping the ladies back into line. What women really want, he says, "is to be fought for." And men, he claims, are "hard-wired" by God for battle; Jesus wants them to be warriors in the vein of Braveheart and Gladiator.

Wild at Heart and Eldredge's other best sellers, The Journey of Desire and The Sacred Romance (as well as "field manual" workbooks that can be purchased separately), address sexual "purity" as part of the fabric of Christian manliness. The most important of these books is Every Man's Battle, which, in the past five years, has become a powerful brand name unto itself, with dozens of Every Man spinoff titles: Every Young Man's Battle, Every Woman's Battle, Preparing Your Son for Every Man's Battle and on and on. There's also an Every Young Man's Battle movie filmed on actual battlefields from history and featuring an interview with former NFL player William White and a discussion between Christian-right leader Dr. James Dobson and serial killer Ted Bundy.

The Every Man premise is that men are sexual beasts, so sinful by nature that, without God in their lives, they don't stand a chance of resisting temptation in the form of premarital sex, masturbation and straying eyes. I first heard about the Every Man books from a volunteer at the Journey, a twenty-five-year-old man who said he'd slept with forty women before he re-virgined with the help of the series.

"Your goal is sexual purity," write Stephen Arterburn and Fred Stoeker. "You are sexually pure when no sexual gratification comes from anyone or anything but your wife." To achieve this, they argue, men must go to a kind of war. Citing Dobson, they note the "fact" that men experience a buildup of sperm demanding "release" approximately every seventy-two hours. For single men, wet dreams, if purged of sexual imagery, can act as "God's natural release valve." (Arterburn and Stoeker believe you can actually train yourself to remove the lust from such dreams.) "Your life is under a withering barrage of machine-gun sexuality that rakes the landscape mercilessly," they report. They encourage making lists of "areas of weakness." They seem particularly concerned with shorts: "nubile sweat-soaked girls in tight nylon shorts"; "female joggers in tight nylon shorts"; "young mothers in shorts, leaning over to pull children out of car seats." To avoid these temptations, men must train themselves to "bounce" their eyes off female curves. They recommend memorizing the locations of sexy billboards so that you can look away and switching your TV to ESPN or Fox News if a tempting commercial comes on the screen. And there's always Scripture. The authors hold up the books of Joshua and Ezekiel as armor against non-Christian women. "Mixture," they write, "can destroy a people."

The books' implicit disdain for non-Christian women - in Every Young Man's Battle, one name for a sexually active unmarried woman is "Betty Jo 'B.J.' Blowers" -- is matched by their reverence for the virtue of Christian womanhood. There are books that address the temptations faced by Christian women, but the Every Man series more often presents the decadence of the world as a result of men's failure to be guardians and servants of female purity.

Every Man operates a hot line, 800-NEW-LIFE, for men who've "threatened" their relationships through their use of pornography. When I called to confess that reading about tight nylon shorts in Every Young Man's Battle had aroused me, a professional masturbation counselor named Jason told me that pornography is "probably the number-one cause of divorce." Then he suggested I sign up for a five-day, $1,800 Every Man's Battle workshop (held monthly in hotels around the country) in which I would take classes on shame, "false intimacy" and "temptation cycles" and work with other men in small groups toward "recovery."

They also offer a two-day "outpatient program" for women, Every Heart Restored, to help wives deal with their husbands' depravity. The message there is that women are inherently more pure than men and thus simpler, and yet their sexuality is complicated and subtle. Husband and wife must play carefully scripted roles. "True manhood," promises one Christian manhood guide, gets "polished by the hand of God." True womanhood, meanwhile, requires the servanthood of a man devoted to his wife's pleasure, a dedication virgins believe will be diluted by men's premarital adventures. "Robin read a statistic," Dunbar tells me on the phone one day, "that men who have sex before marriage are something like 600 percent more likely to experience a drop-off of sexual passion once they are married." If you accept that number, the incentive for premarital chastity is stunning: a post-wedding life of sex that's 600 percent more awesome.

One night, Dunbar and Power show me a video of a party they hosted at their Williamsburg apartment. They and their two roommates were the entertainment, playing Eighties covers for a packed house. Since the last time I've seen him, Power has shaved his beard and taken to wearing eyeliner for no particular reason. In the video, he wore snakeskin tights and played a red guitar; Dunbar was a retro vision in white pants, white muscle shirt and a red, white and blue headband. They sang "Like a Virgin" and "I Want Candy." Power wailed "Roxanne," Dunbar closed his eyes and moaned "Tainted Love."

"You're so hot!" screamed a girl in the crowd.

After the video, we head out to a bar to meet a group of Christians celebrating a birthday. It's a low-ceilinged basement with dim light and a belly dancer. We sip our beers, hovering over a table of dancers and musicians, mostly women, about half of them, to the best of Dunbar's knowledge, virgins. I tell him I'd like to talk to one of them about her chastity.

He nods toward a brunette at the end of the table. "That's Hilary. She'd be good. She's a Rockette."

"How should I broach the subject?"

Dunbar looks confused. "Just tell her you want to talk about her virginity."

So I walk up to a beautiful woman in a bar and say, "I hear you're a virgin." And she looks up at me with eyes like blue velvet and smiles like I've just paid her the best compliment of the evening.

It turns out Hilary Rushford is an inch too short to make the official Rockette squad, but she performs backup with them. And she is, indeed, a virgin, twenty-five years old. Next to her sits her date, Chad Riley. It's their second time out together. He's twenty-seven, lean and muscled, a commercial photographer and also a "warrior," an "on-fire" Christian who describes himself as a "total virgin."

Rushford says that a friend of hers had sex and said it was awful.

"I hate fornication!" agrees Riley, who is still recovering from a relationship that lasted nine months without a kiss. But he doesn't want me to mistake him for frigid. "I love kissing," he says. "But I know my body and who I am." Riley, it turns out, is actually a "born-again virgin." In his early twenties, he strayed.

Rushford giggles. "Ephesians 5:3," she says -- the signal verse for Christians who prize chastity. " 'But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality. . . .' "

"A hint?" I ask. "How can you tell?"

"Once I get aroused, I know," Riley says.

"Do you ever wonder what you're missing?" I ask.

"How can you worry about what you're missing if you've never tried it ?" he says.

Not knowing, he explains, is the best part, the biggest selling point of virginity for both Riley and Rushford. They will each be their spouse's first lover, which means that she will not have to worry if her husband wishes her breasts were bigger, because he wouldn't know, and he will not have to worry whether size matters, because she wouldn't know.

Back in high school, Rushford dated guys who called themselves Christians who constantly pressed her for more. She kept her virginity, but only just, and when she left for college, she vowed to never let herself get used again. For her, virginity is the one truth about herself that no man can touch. But then, that's long been the case for Christian women. Riley regards his chastity, lost and regained, as just as precious. His feelings about it are, by traditional standards, almost feminine. That's what celibacy offers Christian men: the vulnerability of being a woman.

The closest Anna Broadway ever got to the "one flesh" of sexual communion were the busy hands of a secular man who took her on her first date in New York. She'd just moved here from Arizona, where she'd finished a master's degree in religious studies at Arizona State University, when she met a man she describes as a short James Gandolfini. Not exactly her style. Broadway is twenty-six, tall and slender, with eyes the color of aspen leaves and lush lips that enjoy what she calls "salty language." She's busty, and she likes to wear tight tank tops and baby-doll tees. This particular date was a chubby, balding advertising executive she refers to only as "Ad Weasel." Their evening went from dinner to his car to parking on the street outside her apartment, where Broadway, a virgin, felt for the first time a man's hands "down there." It felt good. Then he made his offer: His tongue, he said, would be more nimble. "That's when I realized," she tells me, "I don't have a battle plan." So she made one up on the spot. Chastity, she decided, could not include orgasm. She removed Ad Weasel's hands and informed him of her decision. Months later, he said to her, "Call me when you want to fuck," and left her, still -- by her definition -- pure.

Broadway (a writing pseudonym she created so she wouldn't shock her missionary parents) poured her frustration into her blog, "Sexless in the City," and revisions of a dense essay on John Cusack movies she'd written in graduate school, "The Cult of the Orgasm as Romantic Mysticism." "In a world that functionally operates on atheistic terms throughout most of its supposedly separate and autonomous spheres," she writes. "What kind of ecstasy is left us, even, but that which occurs in sexual release?" In the movies, she writes, secular romance leads only to orgasm, but the real answer to her question is, of course, Jesus.

Broadway was part of what she describes as the "first wave" of Christian home-schoolers, protected by her parents from the false teachings of evolution and all the attendant pornography of so-called alternative lifestyle education, but her sex life began at age eight, when she began fantasizing about Almanzo, from The Little House on the Prairie. At twelve, she began lulling herself to sleep every night with elaborate sexual scenarios in serial form. Always, she swears, in the context of marriage.

Now she is part of an intellectual avant-garde of the purity brigades, an elite made up mostly of women. Besides Broadway, for instance, there's Lauren F. Winner, a Jewish convert to Christianity and a religious-studies graduate student at Columbia and author of Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity, and Dawn Eden, also a convert from Judaism who writes a blog called "The Dawn Patrol" and is working on a book about "becoming newly chaste."

Broadway views the Every Man books and Dobson's precise approach to sexual regulation (Dobson offers a ten-stage scale in which pretty much everything after stage one -- holding hands -- is off-limits) as bad theology. She doesn't want a sexuality that's controlled and contained, and after much consideration, she's decided that a sexless wet dream isn't very hot. Broadway longs for a chastity that isn't so much a denial of desire as its embrace. One of her favorite verbs is "savor," and she talks about sex like it's a food she is waiting for. In "Sexless in the City," she writes about sending a vagina made of chocolate to "Ad Weasel" in lieu of her taking him up on his offer of cunnilingus.

The world, she says, is pulsing with sex. Some of it ugly; some of it, like the Song of Solomon, very beautiful; and most of it stupid and sad. Most people, she says, can't help but look at the world through what she calls the "flesh-colored lens." But Christians, she says, see a different reality. Like The Matrix, she claims. The Wachowski brothers' trilogy of women in black latex and men with big guns have become cult films to Christian conservatives, drawn by the Christ story at the movies' core, the search for "the One" - i.e., the Messiah. The fact that the series portrays the everyday world as not only in a state of decay but ruled by evil forces makes for an easy parallel to the theology of Christendom.

Years ago, in college, Broadway participated in a Campus Crusade for Christ "infiltration" of the University of California at Berkeley, an attempt to plant covert evangelists in "subcultures" at the university so that they could gather information that could later be used to convert Bay Area heathens. It was, she says, a raid on enemy territory.

"The students were the enemy?" I asked. She thinks for a while. No, she said. Lust was. Evil is like an ocean, icy cold. Non-Christians are on the verge of drowning, but they don't realize their peril. Their minds are dulled by hypothermia. When a Christian pulls them out of the water, they struggle. The warmth makes their frozen nerve ends scream. "It hurts," says Broadway.

Before power became fully Christian - back when he cared as much about his guitar as he did about God - he dated a non-Christian girl. His voice gets husky as he remembers: "There were times, when we were naked, and my tongue was inside her, and she's whispering for me to go further." Dunbar is staring at him. He knows this story, but he doesn't mind hearing it again. It's not prurient for them, it's bonding. "There were times," continues Power, "when I had to ask myself, 'What do I believe?' "

"But you weren't alone with her," Dunbar says.

"No."

Dunbar turns to me. "He had responsibility to us." His brothers.

But Power kept letting them down. After high school, he stayed at home for a year while Dunbar and the rest of his friends went on to college. He joined a Christian punk band, Straight Forward. He started slipping. At Pepperdine he continued to slide. He began dating a woman only recently born again, still immature in her faith. She was thrilled by Power's attention: He was a man known to be on fire for God. The girl - a "baby Christian," in the lingo -- wanted to get closer to that warmth. She did so the only way she knew how.

"A blow job," says Power.

It had been one thing to go down on his girlfriend when he wasn't sure what he believed. It was another to let a girlfriend go down on him after he'd committed himself to God. But then, he says, that's how it works all too often when a man looks like he's devoted to Jesus. "It becomes more about giving than receiving" -- an implicit recognition of the sexism he knows permeates the best intentions. Even among Christians, the girls, he says, "will go down on you, but you don't have to go down on them."

The experience, he says, broke his heart. What it did for the girl, he can't even imagine.

In August, Power and his fiancee will be married back home in Visalia, where Dunbar will be his best man. Power feels like he has waited a long time. He didn't want to marry for sex, so he restrained himself from proposing until it did not even enter his mind. Soon he will experience his reward. A "sexual payoff," according to the authors of Every Man's Battle, that will "explode off any known scale."

Like the fundamentalists of old, today's Christian conservatives define themselves as apart from the world, and yet the modern movement aims to enjoy its fruits. To the biblical austerity of chastity, they add the promise of mind-blowing sex, using the very terms of the sexual revolution they rally against. And that's just the beginning. Sexual regulation is a means, not an end. To believers, the movement offers a vision grander even than the loveliness of a virgin: a fairy tale in which every man will be a spiritual warrior, a knight in the service of the king of kings, promised the hand and the heart and, yes, the sexual services of a "lady." That is the erotic dream of Christian conservatism: a restoration of chivalry, a cleansing of impurity, a nation without sin, an empire of the personal as political. "Power," as Pastor Nelson of the Journey promises, is the guaranteed result of "passions properly pursued."

What Do John Wesley, Henry VIII, Spaceballs, and the Devnver Broncos Have In Common? Me.

2005-06-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

For no particular reason, I decided to see what famous events occurred and what famous people were born on June 28th in history. My findings were nothing short of shocking... June 28th is a really amazing day! In fact, it is probably the most historically important day of the year, just shy of December 25th.

First of all, there were many famous things that probably happened on June 28th, including:

The Magna Carta was most likely signed on June 28th, even though there is a certain breed of degenerate historians who say the actual date of signing is "unknown." As you probably know, the Magna Carta (which in latin means the Massive Cart) was a very important legal document that first placed restrictions on how many peasants a king could run over every hour in his pimped-out carriage.

The 4th of July probably occurred on June 28th, but John Hancock took a long time to finish his signature, and Sasha Fauntleroy of Virginia (who was a wealthy and influentional fashion designer of wigs and stockings for men) spent days in an unsuccessful fillibuster over whether the Declaration of Independence would seem less harsh if written on the flowery stationary his mum had given him for his birthday.

God's Creation of Man probably happened on June 28th or a Tuesday, which also makes today the birthday of all mankind.

Then of course, there are the things that definitely happened on June 28th:

Famous Birthdays: Kathy Bates (i.e., don't watch "About Schmidt"), Mel Brooks (may the Schwartz be with you!), John Cusack (who I see at Diedrich's all the time... I'll have to tell him), Mary Stuart Masterson (all the rage in the late 80's/early 90's), King Henry VIII (the one with all the wives, and the founder of the Church of England because he wanted to divorce one of them), Jean-Jacques Rousseau (Social Contract, French philosopher), Pope Paul IV (also known as John Paul the Guilty), Richard Rogers (of Rogers and Hammerstein musical-theater fame), John Wesley (if you follow the "new" calendar used after 1752, according to this article), and John Elway (of the Denver Broncos).
Famous Events: The tomato is proven to be non-poisonous, 1820 (thank God!), Raggedy Ann toy invented, 1917 (a doll my sister loved and I tortured...if only I knew!), President Cleveland officially approved "labor day," 1894 (you all owe me vacation time), and Helen Keller graduated from Radcliffe College (you go girl!).

And last but not least... God brought yours truly into this world.

Look up famous things that happened on your birthday here. If there isn't anything interesting, then embellish!

Totally Unspiritual Link of the Week #3

2005-06-22T10:57:00.000-07:00

Do you ever find yourself really, really enjoying something that you shouldn't? This week's totally unspiritual article of the week is actually a totally unspiritual link. It involves a phone prank that was perpetrated, I think, by a British radio disk jockey, involving an order to a Chinese restaurant.

Chinese Takeout (.mp3)

Chinese Takeout (.wmv)

I know that posting this link dooms me to at least a month of taunting by the Chinese when I attempt to learn their language in a year, but, I think the payoff will be worth it. The site this was taken from is Compfused.com, which is a good resource for entertaining videos and sound files on it.

Have You Ever Seen Jesus?

2005-06-19T21:25:00.000-07:00

Tell you what: do something stupid with me for a minute. Make sure no one is around. Close the door if you need to, because the way you smell might offend someone (in general, I mean – not because of what we’re about to do).

Now then: take 10 seconds, close your eyes, and try to visualize Jesus in your mind. Seriously. This post will be much better if you do it, and at the very least, closing your eyes stimulates endorphins, which, as we all know, are necessary for swimming with dolphins. Who wouldn’t want to swim with dolphins?

You didn’t do it, did you? Last chance – before you hurt Jesus’ feelings. Ok, you’ve made up your mind one way or another. For those of you that did close your eyes...

What Does He Look Like?

What did you see? How was He dressed? What did His face look like? Was he doing anything? Where was he? You might even take a quick second to try picturing Him again, focusing on what you actually visualize. Who, or What did you see? [Author’s note: right about now is when the internal debate fires up as to whether or not I should capitalize “He” when referring to Jesus, or just leave it, “he.” My version of the bible doesn’t do it; but then again, the Bible was written centuries before the central issue of this debate even became a problem, namely: if He-Man is deserving of a capitalized pronoun as His name, Jesus is really deserving of it. As such, I will change all future use of “he” to “He.”]

When I do this exercise I see the face of Jesus right in front of me (as in, we’re not quite Eskimo-kissing, but we’re darn near the North Pole). Behind Him and all around Him, everything is dark. Without moving or blinking, He just stares straight at me. I find myself unable to look away, as if I am locked in a trance. The thing is, I can’t exactly see His face. I can sense His face; I know exactly what he looks like, but not in the way I would from seeing a picture of Him. He stares at me in a way that communicates several emotions all at once, each of which seems to overlap and morph into another: peace, anguish, intensity, simplicity, kindness, love - a deep, throughout-all-time kind of love. That’s the only way I can describe it. All we do is stare at one another. That’s Who I see.

Often when I see an image of Jesus, I think to myself, “That’s not Jesus – at least, not the One that I know.” I’m not necessarily saying that the image is completely wrong, but it never ceases to amaze me how many thousands of ways He has been portrayed ever since He walked (physically) amongst us. I’m sure we all see Him differently, and some of that is probably influenced by the way we have seen Him portrayed in art and media. Probably most people see a beard, shoulder-length brown hair, a simple robe, and sandals. Heck, maybe that isn’t very far off. We might see Him in a variety of roles, most of which relate to focusing on a specific part of His personality or ministry that is meaningful to us. He has been portrayed as a comforter, healer, warrior, servant, peacemaker, preacher, shepherd, friend, reformer, feminist, savior and sacrifice. Largely, we probably see Him as we want to see Him.

He Looked Just Like Us, Only More... God-like, Right?

But has it ever occurred to you that Jesus, as a man, definitely had a specific look? If you saw Him or knew Him, you’d be able to recognize Him – His nose, eyes, ears, face, beard. I think most of us are used to thinking of His face in pretty vague terms, and we accept that – but if we had walked with Him, who would we have seen?

Some people may think it’s not important. Scripture tells us that “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him.” In other words, He was a pretty ordinary looking guy. We say, “Sure. That makes sense. People didn’t follow Him because He was some stud or charismatic charmer… they followed Him because He was the Son of God.” This is very true, but I think that part of our response is a cop-out.

You see, it’s a little bit scary to really try to picture what Jesus looked like, because it forces us to face a fact that we’re ready to acknowledge theologically, but not confront personally: Jesus was a man. He was also God, but don’t be mistaken: He was a man. That may not flap you one bit. You’ve seen “The Passion of the Christ.” Jesus was human. He was laughing, weeping, interacting with His disciples, bleeding etc. – so clearly, we realize He was a man.

Is Seeing Believing...or Knowing?

But every depiction of Jesus as a man that we have encountered has still been removed from reality. The big screen is – well, a screen – not reality. Art, pictures, even visions – they describe something that is “other than” us. It is distant, separate, and not as tangible or real (in the way we usually define real). If you think you’ve internalized the reality of Jesus’ humanity, then try this on: find a guy that’s nearby. Not the flashy, good-looking, charismatic guy. In fact, find the most average, non-descript guy you can. Regular clothes. Maybe glasses. Now, as you’re looking at him, could you believe that he is Jesus – that he is the Son of God? What if he said to you, “(Enter Your Name Here) I am Living Water. That Diet Coke you’re drinking – you think it will quench your thirst, but it can’t. But if you come to me, and take a drink of me, I promise, you’ll never be thirsty again!” How about something like: “(Enter your name here): I am the way – the only way – to the Father. I am Truth. I am Life. You can’t come to God unless you do it through me. You can only know God if you know me.”

That’s when it gets scary. Because if a guy came up to me and said those things, in my best moment, I would gracefully dismiss Him as being mental, and maybe even offer to pray for Him. In my worst moment, I would probably give Him the look that accurately reflects what I am thinking: “Of all the tools in all the world, no wrench can handle a nut-job like you.” Sure, if it had been Jesus, we all would recognize Him. But this guy isn’t Jesus. Just look at Him – how could this be the One that we’re waiting for? He’s nothing like the (savior, political reformer, comforter, warrior, feminist, preacher) that God would be. Heck, this guy has a pimple on his forehead.

This isn’t even taking into consideration that the perception of the day was that the Messiah would be a prophet or a king that would physically deliver the Jews from their oppression, not God-come-down-as-man. I wish I could say that I would have recognized my Lord if I had been alive. I wish I knew that that I would not have dismissed Him, or tried to lead Him to the truth, or prayed for Him, or been horrified at His blasphemous claims, or even consented to His death through public jeers or an attitude of indifference.

It is awkward to really place the humanity of Jesus because...He’s God. But He was fully God and fully man. It’s a paradox. Most people don’t like paradox because it is completely irrational. But without paradox, there is no such thing as the Christian faith. And there is something terribly awkward and ridiculous but incredibly powerful when we can grasp the humanity of Jesus – the humanity of God.

What would worship have looked like if Jesus were sitting with us? I don’t remember the disciples busting out a lyre and singing “Shout to the Lord” or “Shine Jesus Shine.” I don’t remember them reading a scripted program, or making announcements about the locks n’ bagel potluck at the temple gate on Sunday, or what tithing was needed to cover staff salaries for the month. I don’t think they ever once talked about a logo, a program, or attendance (other than, “how are we going to feed all these people?”). I do seem to remember reading about a lot of listening, a lot of discussing, a lot of questions, a lot of deep, growing relationship, and a lot of transformed lives. I think there was some healing, some laughing, some weeping, some praying, and walking. Lots, and lots of walking.

Warning: Objects and God May Be Closer Than They Appear

Listen to the way that John says it. “From the very first day, we were there, taking it all in – we heard it with our own ears, saw it with our own eyes, verified it with our own hands. The Word of Life appeared right before our eyes; we saw it happen!… The infinite Life of God himself took shape before us” (1 John, The Message). He was tangible! He was real – right there. You could pinch Him, hug Him – and He put up a mean fight in a thumb war. Don’t know what you should do? Ask Him. Need something? Tell Him. He wasn’t on some screen or page; He was God with us. Right here, right now. But most of all: He was nothing like you ever expected.

What, or who we see when we close our eyes and picture Jesus largely determines whether we’ll miss, dismiss, or fall down in worship before Him as He is in our lives. How many times have I missed Him, simply because He did not appear as I envisioned Him – or because I was crying for Him to come down when He was within?

“We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ” (1 John). Maybe I can’t reach out and touch Him like John could – but maybe, because John did, I can too. I can see Him as He is and however He reveals Himself, and let the fullness of His humanity touch me as much as the holiness of His Deity.

...and as I see You now, You’re nothing like I ever expected.

It's interesting to take a look at the ways we usually "see" Jesus. It really is amazing; apparently, he has one of the best image-of-God consultants around, because it seems like every time I see Him, He's got a different look. Below is a collection of some of my personal favorites for how others see Him...and let me tell you, for the most part, Jesus is HOT!

The "Peaceful Personality-less" Jesus: Always speaks softly and sloooooowwly, and properly enunciates his King James English...

The Ethno-Centric Jesus: Had a minor role in the acclaimed Eddie Murphy flick, "Coming To America"... and he can 'make your Sooooouul Glow!'

The Buddy Jesus: Often heard saying things like, "He-hey! How's it hangin', bro? You down with the Holy G today? Peace in. Lates."

The Political Reformer Jesus: Would he have your vote or support in a coup d'etat?

The Forensic Jesus: Scientists constructed this head from skulls dated to the time of Jesus. So, it's what he could have looked like. But let's be honest: would you really believe this guy is the Son of God?

The Baby Jesus: This baby Jesus is far too holy to leave poopy diapers or throw-up bean curd on Mary's shoulder. Goochy-goo! You little Son of God you!

The Action Almighty: Complete the set... he comes with an AK-47 Kalishnikov Kingdom Assault Rifle, and the body of the original Luke Skywalker Star Wars figure.

The Cross-Action Jesus: The perfect playmate for a youngling, complete with "cross-action shotgun" and "ninja-messiah throwing nails."

The "You Crucified Jesus" Jesus: If your child is a tactile-learner, there is no better way to drive home the personal responsibility of the crucifixion.

The Sim Jesus: Ha ha! Now you can control a virtual world where Jesus lives! It's just like being God!

The Sunday School Jesus: Always ready for a hug...just watch out for the schnoz.

The Superstitious Jesus: He speaks constantly in signs and wonders of nature, and loves to utilize fishsticks to remind us of his presence.

The Hansel Jesus: "That Jesus... he's so hot right now... he's on fire!"

The Liberal Jesus: Au natural, and very into 'making love, not war.' Crucified by The Man, and crowned with cannibis, he is also against taking showers (unless for baptism).

The "With You In Pain" Jesus: Just remember: if intense pain makes you take the Lord's name in vain, he's usually right there to hear it, and is ready to bump the dentist's elbow.

The "Cares About the Small Stuff" Jesus: "Been sittin' here all stinkin' day, and still ain't caught a catfish..." Jesus is there to comfort you, and cares about your smallest worries. Pay heed when he says to cast your rod on the other side of the boat.

The Full-Contact Jesus: Hey Rudy - I don't care how passionate you are... it's bad juju to try tackling God, and I think it's an extra big sin at Notre Dame.

The King-Fu Jesus: He's a warrior, alright; let's bust some skulls and practice our nunchuck skills on Satan! (Note: nunchuck skills are only biblical if used in self-defense.)

The "Lord of the Dork-Sports" Jesus: Even if the other kids make fun of you for being a juggler, Jesus never will. He may make fun of your unibrow and bowl-cut though...

The Meek and Mild Jesus: The lamby-cuddly-wuddly Jesus, who gently shepherds his flock to greener pastures.

The "Whip It" Jesus: Not as popular as the meek and mild Jesus, almost entirely because of the bullwhip. Moneychangers and Pharisees beware (wait...you couldn't mean us?!?)

The "He Did It Again" Jesus: "Why can't they just get it right once? I mean, how hard is it? Just love your stinkin' neighbor people!"

The Confused Personality Jesus: Oh Father...er...Jesus, forgive us our sins, and let your glory come...or, rather, let the Holy Spirit come. Uh. Yeah. Just help, please.

The "He Is Risen" Jesus: He is Risen indeed! Just look at how he floats!

The "Rocky" Jesus: Your personal champion against sin and struggles. Looks just like the "Fabio" Jesus.

Our Savior, Our Lord: "He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not. Surely He took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered Him stricken by God, smitten by Him, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed." (Isaiah 53:2-5)

My Birthday Wish List

2005-06-16T10:07:00.000-07:00

That's right, my birthday is coming up. Due to internet identity theft, I won't say when my birthday is, but if you send me any of the gifts I have listed on my list below... make sure they arrive around the end of June-ish. So without further ado: here is my top-10 birthday wishlist:

10) This Catfish: It’s the world’s biggest catfish, people! If you put this thing on a circus tour, it’d bring home more bacon than Microsoft stock in the 90’s.

9) Cocaine Wars: I don't think this even needs an explanation.

8) Hummer With Machine Gun Mount: This should help me deter cocaine harvesters if I am even involved in an actual Cocaine war, but beyond that, it is totally practical for blending in with Malibu-ites.

7) A "Your Mom Goes To College" T-Shirt: I’m sure that someday, someone who I know will have a mother that will go to college. And I want to be prepared for that day.

6) Rhode Island: Don’t even try to tell me that someone is going to miss it. It’s barely there as it is.

5) The Old Man of Storr: This Scottish landmark is wasted on the Isle of Skye. It would make an awesome addition to the patio outside of my apartment, however.

4) The Blarney Stone: I’ve already kissed it, but having this puppy at home would really give us some quality time to “get acquainted.” A national speaking tour, and I’m set for life.

3) A Zoldar-Speaks Machine: You know, the one that was responsible for the title of Tom Hank’s movie, “Big.” It's the gift that keeps on giving. Who wouldn’t want to be able to make their own wish for only a nickel?

2) Uncle Booger's Dumper Bumper: The real question is, why don’t I already have one? If I could only figure out a way to use the dumper bumper on my Hummer while manning the machine gun mount, I could officially claim the title of “most manly-man, ever.”

1) A Silver Canon Digital Rebel XT (with 18-55mm lens): The perfect combination of maunal and automatic settings in a digital SLR camera = fun times for many, many years.

Interesting Article: "Housechurches Have No Sex Appeal"

2005-06-15T15:05:00.000-07:00

Came across an interesting article from aways back on housechurches, or the "housechurch movement." It is written by a British pastor, Brian Jones, who has been/is both a traditional minister of a church and a planter of housechurches. If you can't imagine a British accent in your head, you really need to find someone that can read it to you with the right inflections, as a posh British accent is key to really getting the dry wit.

The article can be read here.

What I found most interesting about the article is that it offers some decent critiques of the housechurch while recognizing its merits. But if you read it carefully (especially the last two points) it almost seems that the author advocates that the housechurch movement won't be ideal until it is more... structured? Has more resources to help it along? More speakers, topics, strategies, etc. Isn't that more of the same though? Are we really waiting for more resources to get things off the ground when we have obviously been given the Resource?

Some people probably think that the housechurch movement (I wonder if they will still call it a 'movement' if it ever become stagnant?) is the future of church as we know it. I definitely don't think that the house-church is the answer to some of the larger church's issues - I think its maybe just a new form that supports relational Christianity more easily, because it does do away with a lot of the programming/staffing/finance/parking/leadership-team baggage.

Notice that even a housechurch is different from relational Christianity, which is simply being the body of Christ wherever and whenever and with whomever you find yourself. It's sharing a journey of deepening relationship with Christ. Period. That can be done in lots of places, and I think if Jesus ever wanted us to find a single structure for worship, He probably would have mentioned it once or twice. And I think that some housechurches can be just as full of issues as a church-churches, and that some church-churches can be far more functional than a housechurch. Neither is the point though - and that is the point. It's not about the structure - it's about relating to Christ and one another in and through Christ. Wherever, however... and that's it.

Totally Unspiritual Article of the Week, #2

2005-06-14T14:43:00.000-07:00

I've indulged in one or two "eat-our-live-450lb-walrus-and-receive-the-second-free" challenges in my life before. The thing with most of these offers is: a) there is usually enough food to fill a swimming pool, b) it isn't very tasty or special c) if it's a burrito, you should be scared at what's inside, and very scared at what it will become once it is inside of you...

I've posted this finding as my "totally unspiritual article of the week," but I think that finishing this burger might just qualify as a spiritual experience. You say it can't be done? Nay, my friend: "All things are possible through Christ who expands our stomachs and heals our large intestine..."

You can check out the site for "Denny's Beer-Barreled Pub" in Clearfield, PA., but I have also done you the courtsey of posting the pictures below. INCREDIBLE. (I wish In-N-Out had a challenge like this with a 20x20 or something...)

Hm...Either the grill is really small, or the patty is really big...

Over 16,000 cows were ground up to contribute to this patty, which is infamously known in many parts of India as "the great Hindu travesty."

I strongly believe that God created tomatoes specifically so that this exact moment would one day be possible. Bravo.

If I didn't know it was a burger, I would probably have mistaken this as a giant flying saucer that contained a miature version of an entire alien ecosystem.

Guy on the Left:"...crapcrapcrap...I can't remember if I put on my diaper this morning!" Guy on the Right: "Oh yeah. My sideburns will structurally reinforce my jawbone from the weight of this badboy... you are so going down."

I really only have one thought when I look at this picture: Vomit. Lots and lots of vomit.

What's even more amazing about this whole thing, is that a 100lb woman allegedly ate this burger's predecessor, which weighed in at a measly 6lbs. Although I don't think this gal weighs 100 pounds, it is still an impressive feat, and only reinforces my theory that a determined woman could eat an entire man if motivated.

Censorship Central

2005-06-13T09:49:00.000-07:00

Some of you might have seen this article already, but the Chinese government announced last week that they were requiring all personal websites and blogs based in China to register so that their content could be monitored and censored for sensitive political content. Some of you may be thinking, "yeah right, how can they possibly censor all blogs and personal websites- there are millions of them!"

Answer: they can do it by employing thousands and thousands of people to do nothing but browse such sites, all day long (and by designing a net-crawling program that searches sites for a registration code)! Internet censorship, as you can imagine, is becoming increasingly important for stifling the thousands of radical ideas that are spread via the world wide web. I mean, try to imagine our country without freedom of expression on the internet! How would we ever discuss important social issues such as whether Brad and Angelina are really just good friends, whether Michael Jackson used "jesus juice" to take advantage of Bubbles, or how one goes about enhancing the size of their mammary glands using natural herbal pills? I'm not sure the impact that this will have on Ruined For Life if Corrie and I do move to China, but when the time comes, don't believe any of my blogs that start with, "Chairman Mao is 'da bomb." Here are some excerpts from the article, which can be read in full here.

SHANGHAI, China - Authorities have ordered all China-based Web sites and blogs to register or be closed down, in the latest effort by the communist government to police the world of cyberspace.

Commercial publishers and advertisers can face fines of up to 1 million yuan ($120,000) for failing to register, according to documents posted on the Web site of the Ministry of Information Industry.

Private, noncommercial bloggers or Web sites must register the complete identity of the person responsible for the site, it said. The ministry, which has set a June 30 deadline for compliance, said 74 percent of all sites had already registered.

"The Internet has profited many people but it also has brought many problems, such as sex, violence and feudal superstitions and other harmful information that has seriously poisoned people's spirits," the MII Web site said in explaining the rules, which were quietly introduced in March.

All public media in China is controlled by the state, though limits on the Internet have tended to lag behind as advances in technology and the Web's rapid spread outstripped Beijing's ability to keep tabs on users and service providers.

China has more than 87 million Internet users, the world's second largest online population after the United States...read the rest here.

Mammon and Me

2005-06-12T00:34:00.000-07:00

Today’s blog comes from the classroom. This trimester for my MBA program, I’ve got class on 6 weekends this summer (6-10 p.m. Friday, 8 a.m. -5 p.m. Saturday), and since I know my brain will be the consistency of clam chowder when I am done today, I’m getting a head start while the stew is still cooking.

This weekend’s class is a business symposium, which is the MBA-bourgeois lingo for “really, really rich, successful people telling you how they got really, really rich making fertilizer out of… (you get the point).” Don’t get me wrong – the speakers were impressive: Victor Tsao (Pepperdine graduate, mind you), the founder of Linksys, who started the company with his wife in their garage; Mary Ellen Weaver, who turned a $1 investment into a $460 million dollar company; and the turnaround king, Steven Plochocki, who took a failing healthcare company you’ve never heard of (Insight Health Corp., or “I Told You So”) and made it fabulously profitable after only 2 years and repeating “badda-bing, badda-boom” 13 times a minute.

All had fabulous stories of success by worldly standards, and they all seemed like ethical business leaders who enjoyed excelling in their fields. In a classroom of some 160 students, I could tell that, for some of them (especially those who had already been trying a startup), seeing these real success stories was as close to heaven as a dung beetle in a cow pasture. Yet, I found myself left with a very strange question:

What is the point of business?

Yep, I heard you say a 180% increase in shareholder earnings in two years. And I heard how hard you worked, and how you dealt with an unpredictable industry against all odds. But really though... what is the point? I heard what you did, and how you did it, but what is the point of it all? What is the point of business?

Now, for those of you that don’t know me, I’m not what you would call the “typical” MBA student. I think I'm the only one in my classes who got a B.A. in Humanities (emphasis in 20th century Europe and Philosophy, mind you), and minored in Religion. I don't work for a corporation, I'm not tremendously motivated by profit or little green bills, and frankly, I'm not getting this degree because my life's ambition is to be a suit. I applied to the program initially because I felt it was clearly what God wanted me to do, despite the fact that I was about as cynical as I could have been about capitalism and corporate America. Heck, one of my application essays read like a cocky 22 year old’s diatribe against avowedly corporate career goals (and although I read it now and roll my eyes at how stupid I sounded, it is truly a testament to God’s plan that I ever got in to the business program, assuming someone ever read it). I have learned a lot since then, and think that I have come to see what business can be versus what it often is not - and frankly, I've loved the learning, especially involving leadership and organizational behavior. But, I don’t sit in a room and drool over P&L or ROI figures, or catchy lingo and 10-step programs to building a performance-driven salesforce. At all.

The answer to the question is really quite simple though: the purpose of business is profit. Yep, that’s it. Profit. If we trace the purpose of this (in an admittedly simplistic way), the rationale goes somewhat like:

The purpose of business is profit.

The purpose of profit is facilitate making even more profit, leading to the accumulation of monetary wealth both personally and organizationally.

The purpose of accumulating monetary wealth is to obtain material wealth.

The purpose of material wealth is to increase comfort in life.

The purpose of increasing one’s comfot is to achieve happiness, and possibly deep, meaningful fulfillment.

-The End.

And that's it, folks. Some people probably don't see anything wrong with the formula above. As for me, even thinking of arriving at the end goal of "meaning" or "happiness" by those means is a total farce. It's a litte uncomfortable to put it those terms, but by all rational arguments, the point of business, as it stands, is profit. I'd challenge anyone in business to argue something else, if they were inclined to do so. Now, what I have also come to realize is that good business necessitates having some other peripheral purposes or goals, such as: meaningfully employing people, providing for employee and customer needs, contributing to the community, etc., but the purpose of business is: profit. In other words, "no margin, no mission." Period.

This is already dragging on, but I'd like to leave you with one or two closing thoughts. First, although I would argue that the purpose of business is profit (like it or not), I have to ask: should it be? Does it have to be? A big realization I had from reading a book early on in the MBA program called The Worldly Philosophers (Heilbroner), is that if we were to travel back in time only 400 years ago, the idea of personal profit was considered totally wrong and evil, because capitalism as an economic system didn't exist. Biblically, it was the sin of gluttony and avarice. In fact, today's "American Dream" of a Lexus, private schooling for the kids, and a summer lakehome was unequivocally considered sinful. Granted, oral hygene was also a sin, but think about it: there are even court cases in colonial America of people being fined and threatened with excommunication for making too much personal profit in a business transaction. What a different paradigm we live in today.

I'm not saying that profit, in and of itself, is wrong. But what if the first purpose of "business" wasn't profit, but rather community, relationship, and creating something of usefullness and excellence. Profit becomes the side-effect of a right focus on those pursuits, and in turn, helps to further those pursuits. It may even be a minor shift in focus, but a big difference in the likelihood of arriving at the desired outcome of meaning. Because I don't really think we know God through profit, unless it's at the end of a broken life that has gotten that way pursuing it at all cost. I definitely don't have all the answers here, and much of my reflection comes out of a realization that I incessantly try to fill my longings with "stuff" - but these are the ideas I wonder about from time to time, and these are the things I'd like to play some role in changing within my lifetime.

...time to go check my stocks.

Totally Unspiritual Article of the Week

2005-06-08T14:52:00.000-07:00

Now, this posting deserves a short preface: I have *possibly* dropped a "trucker bomb" once in my life - but fear not, it was well before I knew that they had a certified name. Hypothetically, if I *did* whiz-on-the-go, it was probably when I was stuck in horrible traffic on the I-80, tremendously late for a flight from Oakland to LAX. Also hypothetically, *if* I had done said bodily function in a 2 liter bottle, then you can be sure I had to go badly enough that over half of the container was filled. Again, if this situation had actually happened, I *probably* was running to the gate just before they closed it for boarding, constituting one of the rare occasions when it is ethically acceptable to drop a 'torpedo.'

Anyone else out there ever tried this? Leave a comment with the story; according to this article, practically everyone has...although I'm assuming that most of the offenses are limited to men, seeing as a female perpetrator would have to be unconventionally indifferent to some amount of spillage for this to be possible...

SEATTLE — Roadside litter comes in all shapes and sizes — from dirty diapers to syringes — but there's one category that out-grosses the rest: trucker bombs.

Most drivers whiz along the nation's highways largely oblivious to their roadside surroundings. But next time you are out there, take a closer look.

"As soon as you look for it you’ll see it," says Megan Warfield, litter programs coordinator at Washington state's Department of Ecology. "You just see them glistening in the sun. It’s just gross."

They are trucker bombs, plastic jugs full of urine tossed by truckers, and even non-truckers, who refuse to make a proper potty stop to relieve themselves.

The state hasn't counted how many such jugs are found each year, but a single, small county decided to do its own tally. "In one year," Warfield says, "one crew found 2,666 bottles of urine, 67 feces covered items, not including diapers, and 18 syringes."

It even happens at rest stops. "That’s the mystery," Warfield says. "There’s a bathroom right there, there’s also a trash can."

...

Mowers 'hit them, they explode'
In April, Colorado increased its "human waste" fine from $40 to $500. Transportation employees convinced lawmakers of the need for the drastic increase with their tales of finding urine jugs as they mowed roadway ditches. "We hit them, they explode. The operator ends up wearing this stuff," Randy Dobyns told state senators.

Dobyns estimated he picks up at least 50 containers a week, sometimes milk jugs, water bottles or even bags filled with urine. "The folks who dispose of this stuff are very creative in their use of containers," he said.

Some states have gone so far as to appeal to truckers themselves, but Warfield recalls how that backfired on a colleague in Arizona. "He did not get a warm reception," she says. (full article continued here.)

Work 101 (with Zoey 101)

2005-06-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

Ok, granted, working at Pepperdine has its advantages - seeing the beach every day, a Christian environment and community, etc., but it also has its disadvantages. Enter Nickelodeon's television show, Zoey 101. Now, living in Malibu, one becomes somewhat accustomed to seeing "moviestars" often. Pamela Anderson is at Starbucks all the time, while Adam Sandler and Rob Schneider seem to prefer Diedrich's. I ran into Pierce Brosnan at Blockbuster once, and have seen AJ (I think that's his name) from NSYNC at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Scores of others come and go- Ed Harris, Jane Seymour, Mel Gibson, David Duchovny - and for the most part, we don't think twice about it. Ever since the Star-Peon Cease Fire of 1978, our two social strata have lived in relative peace and harmony, with one rarely bothering the other.

That alliance is about to end. For those of you that don't know, (and believe me, I wouldn't if I didn't live with it every day), Zoey 101 is a Nickelodeon TV show that stars Jaime Lynn Spears (the youger sibling of Brittney Spears), who - guess what - attends "Pacific Coast Academy" as a middleschooler. I'm assuming the basic plot is something like: Jaime Lynn Spears has a ton of episodic dramas in her Jr. High years, blah blah blah, that take place at a private California prep school- by the beach, which happens to be the campus of Pepperdine University in real life.

I have nothing against Zoey, or Jaime for that matter, and I may sound like a royal whine here, but the filming is a real nuisance on campus. First, when we come into work in the morning and try to park, our beloved Zoey trucks take up no less than 20-40 parking spots. This would be minor, except for for the fact that missing a parking spot at Pepperdine, which is built on a mountainside, means hiking up a huge hill from the red-headed-step-child lots below. Once you are actually on campus, you usually have to sneak around like a ninja of the night: all must be quiet on set, afterall, and apparently, the entire campus qualifies as "the set." Today's filming was taking place at our outside coffee cart, which is located in the very center of campus. Not only does this mean that the coffee cart is closed, but it means that every time we need to walk by (which is basically any time we need to come or go from our office) we have to tip-toe around, lest we interrupt the filming for the sake of work or "academics."

Granted, the payoff to all of this is we have the priviledge of seeing Jaime Lynn Spears and the half-dozen other child television stars whisked around on golf-carts, forced to eat catered food, and pampered in basically every other way by child-television-star mothers, who I am sure will one day earn a classification as a completely distinct mammalian species.

The entertainment industry is a peculiar one indeed, and I'll have an upcoming blog dedicated entirely to it, as I have many, many friends (including my sister and her husband) who are making careers in it.

FYI: The picture on the right may or may not be one that was actually taken before someone I know was threatned with life imprisonment by a zealous stage intern, who informed said person that the set, which is located in the middle of campus in broad daylight, was "closed." The person in said photo may nor may not be Jaime Lynn Spears, whose is face partially obscured by a piece of set-equipment.

Revenge of the Script

2005-06-02T14:50:00.000-07:00

As usual, today's blog title is a 'double entendre' of sorts; first, if you are a regular to this site, you'll notice something new that has to do with a type of scripting... scrollable menu bars! That's right, I've added these DHTML-scriptacular scrolling menus to make the site navigation a little easier. That way, you don't have to remember what's in all the rooms, as you can get some sense by looking at each major piece of furniture via the menu. Now you can whiz through the house like a five-year old who has just snorted a pixie stick and is looking for some paste to eat...

As for the other script that is worth a short mention, I went and saw Star Wars Episode III, Revenge of the Script (er, Sith) last night for the second time. Now I know that this movie has already been reviewed ad nauseam, but I feel that I have a few original contributions that might be worth a second of your time.

1) WORST. TITLE. EVER.
Did anyone else notice it? Right at the beginning of the movie, just as the music comes in? The movie is named STAR WARS! STAR WARS, people! Hang with me - I've always taken this name mindlessly for granted, but just let it ring in your ears... STAR WARS. It's up there with the worst names ever created for a movie, even a sci-fi. I know it's hard to imagine, but try to picture your reaction to a movie you've never heard of that is called "STAR WARS."

I can see the meeting George had with studio executives now: "Ok folks, we've got options for the name of this movie. There's 'GALAXY BATTLES' or 'SPACE FIGHTING,' Tom suggested 'CELESTIAL CONFLICT,' Dick's wife thought 'ASTRAL ATTACK' had a nice ring to it... and, not to bias anyone, but I came up with 'EMPYREAN BELLIGERENCY.' I think that's a blockbuster title to go with a blockbuster script! [enter janitor named Harrison, background] How about 'Star Wars?'" It's amazing how my brain has been switched off to this travesty for 25 years of life. It's time to free our minds, people.

2) WORST. DIALOGUE. EVER.

PADME: Annie, I want to have our baby back home on Naboo. We could go to the lake country where no one would know . . . where we would be safe. I could go early-and fix up the baby's room. I know the perfect spot, right by the gardens.

ANAKIN: You are so beautiful!

PADME: It's only because I'm so in love . . .

ANAKIN: No, it's because I'm so in love with you.

PADME: So love has blinded you?

ANAKIN: Well, that's not exactly what I meant . . .

PADME: But it's probably true!

They laugh.

I don't even think I need to touch this one, but the bullies made fun of me when I was an ugly junior high kid with nothing going for me, so it's payback time. In order to really appreciate this scene, it has to be re-read in its original context.

I have obtained an EXCULSIVE original draft of the script, and let me tell you, the things that were edited out could have brought home the little-golden-mantle-man for this movie. It more fully expresses the depth of emotion that George wanted to convey in the acting that surely was messed up by some rookie script editor at the last minute:

PADME: Annie, I want to have our love-child back home on Naboo. We could go to the lake country so I could have a water-birth . . . we would be safe. I could go early-and fix up the baby's 'room.' I know the perfect spot, right in the gardens, so he can be raised on granola and pesticide-free foods.

ANAKIN: You are so beautiful!

PADME: No, you're so beautiful!

ANAKIN: Nuh-uh! You're so beautiful!

PADME: Like ever! You are!

PADME: It's only because I'm so in love . . .

ANAKIN: Nuh-uh, it's because I'm so in love with you.

PADME: So love has blinded you?

ANAKIN: Well, that's not exactly what I meant . . . but YES!

PADME: Silly Billy!

They laugh heartily with "HO, HO, HO's."

Only a screenwriter like George can know the frustration of having a masterpiece torn to shreds by an intern proof-reader. Don't give up, George!

3) WORST. CONVERSION-TO-THE-DARKSIDE. EVER.

Did Anakin's betrayal of all that was good, holy, and right seem a little off to anyone else? Here' the actual script excerpt:

[Just as MACE is about to slash PALPATINE, ANAKIN steps in and cuts off the Jedi's hand holding the lightsaber.

As MACE stares at ANAKIN in shock, PALPATINE springs to life.
The full force of Palpatine's powerful Bolts blasts MACE. He attempts to deflect them with his one good hand, but the force is too great. As blue rays engulf his body, he is flung out the window and falls twenty stories to his death. No more screams. No more moans. PALPATINE lowers his arm.]

PALPATINE: Power! Unlimited power!

[His face has changed into a horrible mask of evil. ANAKIN looks on in horror. PALPATINE cackles.]

ANAKIN: What have I done?

ANAKIN sits like he doesn't know how to complete this character transition.

PALPATINE: You are fulfilling your destiny, Anakin. Become my apprentice. Learn to use the dark side of the Force.

ANAKIN: I will do whatever you ask.

PALPATINE: Good.

What gives? Four lines before he hack's Mace Windex's arm off, Anakin is talking about how killing Palpatine isn't the "Jedi" way. That part of the dialogue should have been Pulp-Fiction style:

MACE WlNDU: You Sith disease. I am going to end this once and for all.

ANAKIN: You can't kill him, Master. He must stand trial.

MACE WINDU: He has too much control of the Senate and the Courts. He is too dangerous to be kept alive.

PALPATINE: I'm too weak. Don't kill me. Please.

ANAKIN: It is not the Jedi way . . .

MACE WINDU: Jedi my ass! You're about to cut my arm off sucka, so don't give me that crap. He's one dead $#&!@#*&$!

3) WORST. SCENE. EVER.
At the end, when Anakin has just had his shiny, black, football helmet strapped on... the operating table lifts up slowly... James Earl Jones rolls his eyes in the sound studio as he says, "Where is Padme? Is she safe? Is she alright?"

I like to call this the "DARTH-CARRIE/FRANKENSTEIN SCENE." Give me a break, George? Things start exploding in the room? He breaks the hand straps, stumbles out on to the floor, and the best you can do is, "NOOOOooooo!"

Well, that's my review of EMPYREAN BELLIGERENCY. As a side note, I did think it was the best of these first three. I thought that Ewan McGreggor valiantly rescued some pretty terrible scenes (ie, most of the movie). And George, now you can start making the movies you want, and you don't have to worry about people not liking them. They probably won't, but at least you won't have to deal with your scripts being ruined by an intern, and you'll never have to take a janitor's suggestion for a movie title again.

Meet Me In St. Louis (and Idol Worship)

2005-05-26T14:49:00.000-07:00

That's right, I'm blogging in St. Louis. I'm here for a very special event; my father is marrying a wonderful woman named Lynn on Saturday. Last summer when Corrie and I were married, dad was my best man, and this time around, I am his! It's a special thing to get to be best man in your own father's wedding. Today, I will get to meet my sister and two brothers first time: Cassie (9), Devon (6) and Clay (5). I hear they are quite a handful, in the best sense! It's been a wonderful visit so far. I've had a chance to get some good reading done in "Inside Out," which I'll review shortly in "the Office," and even had the chance to smoke a cigar late last night with Father on the campus of Concordia Lutheran Seminary, just under the towering statue of Martin Luther, who looks as defiant as ever. I don't know if my face could be replicated well in statue-form... it's just so unique, and my nose is so pointy. I'll be sure to post pictures in the gallery when I get back, and maybe some thoughts on why I never want a religious movement named after me.

It's interesting to me on another level that I arrived in St. Louis on the night when the most watched television program in the nation crowned Carrie Underwood - who originally auditioned for the show in St. Louis - this season's "American Idol." I logged on to msnbc.com earlier today, to find that the story was the 2nd top headline, narrowly beat out by reports that Al-Zarqawi might be seriously wounded or dead. This is not big surprise; an estimated 29 million viewers tuned-in for this year's final episode, up almost a million viewers from last season.

Carrie's most winsome quality, the author notes, was that she was a small-town, wholesome kind of girl. Not voting for her would be like "booing ice cream and apple pie." In other words, it was her innocence that made her seem authentic, if not topped-off by her bambi eyes, soaring vocals, and blonde curls. Carrie has now rocketed from small-town to downtown, and the nation (or at least the 15 million or so that watched and voted for her) is eating out of her farm-handling hands.

Honestly, I didn't really watch the show, and even more honestly, it wasn't directly out of some deep-seated conviction not to. My wife loves it, and so do most of her friends, and I definitely appreciate that there is some amazing vocal talent to go through the contest (and unlike many guys, I actually love vocal performances of just about any type, having been raised in a family of very musically-oriented folks). Nope, by all standards, the show is probably some of the better quality television on these days, and I can be grateful for that.

But I will leave with one thought: what I appreciate about the show is the fact that it doesn't claim to be anything other than exactly what it is. "American Idol." They're out to create a star. They are out to make a no-name, small-town girl with real talent (and probably a great heart) a marketable, profitable, hero-for-the-masses. There will always be something in us, rightfully placed, that looks for heroes, that triumphs in the success of a nobody who has just become a somebody, and I'm sure the producers knew this when they created the show.

I'm not here to make a big deal out of it, but if I am honest with myself, the title does give me pause whenever I hear it. It makes me reflect on what it is inside of us that is drawn to a nobody becoming a somebody. As I sat with my cigar last night, overlooking the beautiful stone buildings of the LUTHERan seminary, I couldn't help but think of what we do to create our "idols," how we come to revere them - even worship them. It's not the show's fault, and it certainly isn't the first or last time we'll find something to set our hope on and devote our attention to. I don't watch the show, but I certainly have my own idols that sometimes outshine the one Headline that should have all my attention. And that makes me... well, it makes me pause, and look inward. The dream that is in us, the desire to know that we are a nobody that can be a Somebody... that is a God-placed desire. But it can only be a God-fulfilled desire.

I really do wish Carrie the best, but it's ironic to me that the very innocence that drew people to Carrie will probably be the first thing to change now that she is an American Idol. We make idols, and we break them when they fail us. Here's hoping we all find the One who deserves our attention, who deserves our admiration, and above all, who deserves our idol worship.

Why Move to China?

2005-05-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

Today’s weblog is on China, and you can expect many more to come on this subject. As some of you may (or may not) know, my wife and I are seriously considering moving to China in about a year. There are many reasons for wanting to move (most important of which is that we feel it’s what God wants us to do), but it’s articles like this one that absolutely capture my imagination and reaffirm that this country is going to play a large role (either for better or for worse) in the near and present future. Did I mention the sticky pork buns? Mmmm...

"Does the Future Belong to China" by Fareed Zakaria, Newsweek

I know it’s long, but it is an incredibly worthwhile read. Some highlights to whet your appetite:

- China’s population is 1.3 billion people, four times that of the U.S.
-It is now the world’s largest producer of coal, steel, and cement
-It is the second largest consumer of energy
-Gas prices suck? Yeah, largely because China is now the third largest importer of oil.
-China’s exports to the US have grown 1600% in the last 15 years.
-Starbucks expects it will have more cafés in China than the US in three years
-Walmart (i.e., the biggest corporation in the world) imports $18 billion worth of goods from China every year; 5,000 of Walmart’s 6,000 suppliers are in China.
-It is the world’s fastest growing large economy
-It has the world’s largest army (2.5 million men)

This doesn’t even mention the spiritual dynamics going on in the country right now, which you can be sure will be the topic of future blogs. If you haven't started thinking about China already, now would be a good time to pay attention.

Community And The Net: A Match Made In Heaven?

2005-05-20T22:53:00.000-07:00

This (hopefully) is going to be an interesting blog for two reasons: first, simply because it is my blog, and I always write gripping entiries, and second, because I happen to be writing this particular entry entirely from my Treo 600 smartphone. I am in northern California for the weekend at a (not-so) little lakehouse getaway with a good friend, Andrew Brumme, while Corrie is out of town in Virginia at a friend's wedding. As such, I'm composing this while overlooking the lake, in an area where there is no cell-phone coverage for about a five-mile radius.

Some people may be thinking, "...and you're excited about this?...", but quite frankly, yes I am - and for reasons more grand than the fact that my "inner tech-geek child" gets to come out and swing on the high-bars of a virtual playground. Writing this blog from an internet-enabled smartphone in the middle of rural California actually provides the perfect opportunity to discuss a very interesting conversation Andrew Brumme and I were having on the 7 p.m. to 2:30 a.m. (yippie) drive up, reflecting on how much the internet and e-mail have changed just about everything in the last eight or so years. We've all heard the not-so-new revelation that, "the internet is quite literally the most significant communication advance since the the development of the printing press." This is obvious, and if you haven't thought of it or heard it before, then I wish you the best of luck with that private island you've been stranded on the past decade. Before I go down that road, however, swing by memory lane with me for a second:

- I had *maybe* cited a website once before for a school project because I had been required to do so. Back then, websites looked really, really lame, and the time it took for pages to load made it impossible for small children to use because because of their short attention spa... hey, the image at the top of the page changes color! Cool!

- When I started college in 1997, I had never used e-mail before. Instead, we wrote notes on paper airplanes and spent countless hours molding the feeble minds of carrier pigeons to do our bidding.

- The first e-mail system I used on campus was known as "Telnet," primarily because programmers at the time had a fondness for onomatopoeia, and "Sucknet" didn't seem as rosy. I had to use a modem to dial-in to a landline phone extension to access the system (whether on or off-campus).

- Before that, my biggest exposure to connectivity was through a now bankrupt service, Prodigy, where I fed a year-long, 7th grade obsession with a bulletin board group of "friends," self-titled, "The Drawing Board" (did you guess that we all fancied ourselves to be comic-book artists?). Basically, all we did was post things to one another about our lives, and occasionally discuss our favorite comic artists, although one groupie (Jenn, I think) who was in college, actually had us send in samples of our work and put it together in a newsletter for a design class, then mailed us the copies. It was cool... no, really...

- These bulletin-board servers (like Prodigy, Compuserve, and AOL), were all enclosed communities, with a paid subscription service. AOL was the first to connect its portal to the internet, and this is the only reason it is still around. By 'around,' I mean that's the only reason you keep getting 1,000,000 free hours on a stinkin' cd from a company that doesn't realize it has no reason to exist.

- Thus, the internet has really only come into invaluable usage in the last 8 years. It's only a 2nd grader, people!

That is mind blowing, and even as I hear myself say it, it smacks of "when I was young, I walked six miles to school every day...why, I still remember the first time I used e-mail in college!" I can't think of many things now that I do (especially at work) that don't involve the internet in some way. But again, why is this important or new?

Because, my friends, for exactly the reason you are reading this right now - we can be connected with any other person on the planet in a way that has never been possible before, and this, by nature, has resulted in a radical shift in how we can initiate and participate in community. Although the realities of that statement apply to all people and groups of people, its repercussions for the Body of Christ may be unparalled since it first became the body of Christ. If the Body is fundamentally about relationship with one another in Christ, then we can find relationship and community across the world in ways not practically possible before now. I can put up a website like Ruined for Life for the sole purpose of expressing and sharing some pieces of the journey that God has been leading me on, and every person I currently have relationship with on that journey can share it with me in a way they probably wouldn't otherwise. Furthermore, as they share their own journey through this outlet, or pass it along to other people they know, those people are are also drawn into a community that is not limited by geography or time. This doesn't even take into account the people that might happen across this community on their own through a search engine.

Even beyond this, however, there is access to so much information that can be incredibly edifying on that journey. Teachings, articles, music - we can find this in abundance and with an ease that simply was not possible before. Although the criticism may not be entirely fair, modern Christianity and institutional churches have sometimes fallen into the same power control that was so highly criticized in the illiterate parishes of the middle ages; wheras the priests and clergy were the only ones that 'knew' the Word (because they were the only ones who could read it), modern churches elevate pastors to the same caste of 'spiritual elite' because of advanced degrees and seminary training. Although there is much to be gained from this type of study, it can dilute what was meant to be a "priesthood of believers" into a mere "audience of believers." The ability to share - and personally contribute - in a community of so many makes the idea of following a particilarly gifted teacher/pastor/leader around seem ludicrious (or rather, exposes it as always having been ludicrous).

Welcome to the community; its great to meet you, however it is you got here, and I for one look forward to what God will do with these new ways to share our journey together!

The Birthday To End All Birthdays

2005-05-19T22:51:00.000-07:00

Birthdays are definitely worth celebrating. Especially this one. Here's to many more years and many more miles, old friend.

The A Song Came Along

2005-05-18T22:49:00.000-07:00

The other night, I was at home alone, and through various circumstances was feeling generally crappy. In this season of my life, I've really been learning about the reality of things that can happen to us that - no matter what good may ultimately come out of them - will always simply hurt in a deep place. For me, that situation largely comes back to my parent's divorce three years ago, and despite good that has come of of an otherwise horrible situation, the divorce itself and the loss of my family as such will always hurt very deeply. There is nothing that can be done about it; it's not a matter of "being emotionally healed," because I think I have been to a large extent. It is the simple yet profound reality that in this world (as promised, incidentally) we will have trouble - and not just the inconvenient, "crap, I got stuck behind another red light" kind of trouble. Trouble will come in deep, profound disappointment, heartbreak, sadness and lonliness at some point(s).

It may sound childish, and probably was, but up until that single event in my life, I had never had to face that reality. Any "trouble" that had come my way before then had been such that I could get away to a quiet place, reconcile my heart, anxieties, or pain with God, and simply put it behind me and move on. If I really sat down and dug it up, I suppose it would still hurt, but not like this. This has been a lasting sadness that, in fact, has actually grown deeper with time. It is not to say it has robbed me of my joy (and I intentionally distinguish 'joy' as being different from 'happiness'), but it has certainly grown with me, aged with me, and fermented from a bitter wine to a smooth, sad one. I can't shake it, so to speak, though I have certainly sought to as before through hours of solitude and laying my frustrations and hurt before God. Only recently have I realized that no amount of introspection or time alone with God would neatly put bookends on the experience, and close off the pain. It will be with me the rest of my life.

It is events like these that are among the hardest to face in life, although often the foundation for the deepest growth of the human spirit. It may come through divorce, it may come through death, it may come through rejection, betrayal, or failure; in fact, it is foolish to speculate the type of event it could be for a person, because taken in proportion, what might seem a small trial in one life could be sheer devastation in that of another. There are times in facing these hard realities of lasting hurt when the world, and everything in it, can seem dark indeed. Even having the head-knowledge of the repercussions of a soverign, omnipotent God giving man the free will to choose - or not choose - His love, and that what is gained for sin, pain, and death is well worth the cost, my heart-reality only cries out: "What is the point, if there is some pain that cannot be redeemed? Why couldn't You, the all-powerful, all-knowing Father, have made the world some other way?" [By the way, if you don't believe in free will, it gets even worse, because then it's definitely God's fault.]

It was the other night that this head-knowledge and heart-reality were wrestling (very verbally and out-loud) with God, when from nowhere (and by nowhere, I certianly mean Somewhere) a song started playing in my head. It was a David Wilcox song I haven't listened to in years, and literally, without permission, interruped everything I could say, think or feel. Click here to open the music player. Select "David Wilcox: Show the Way" as the track as you read long with the sung words.

You say you see no hope.
You say you see no reason we should dream
That the world would ever change
You're saying love is foolish to believe.
'Cause they'll always be some crazy,
With an army, or a knife,
To wake you from your daydream,
Put the fear back in your life.

Look, if someone wrote a play
Just to glorify what's stronger than hate
Would they not arrange the stage
To look as if the hero came too late?
He's almost in defeat
It's lookin' like the evil side will win
So on the edge of every seat,
From the moment that the whole thing begins

It is Love who mixed the mortar
And it's Love who stacked these stones
And it's Love who made the stage here,
Although it looks like we're alone
In this scene, set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us,
But it's Love that wrote the play
For in this darkness Love can show the way

... And that moment, my heart closed it's eyes, nodded slowly, and rested. Amen.

How Do I Respond to Pain?

2005-05-15T22:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday, I had a conversation with a good friend about some of his recent frustrations. He is in a job right now that is really not fulfilling to him, and feels stuck and unable to move forward in really pursuing the vocation he feels called to. For the better part of a year, he and his wife have been praying that God would provide some new work opportunity, or open the door to something else. Adding to the problem, his current job is relatively far away from home, and moving is not really an option, unless it is to a new job that is going to be able to financially provide for his family.

Although he has been researching and making calls on other opportunities that are more in line with the career he wants to pursue, about a month and a half ago he was contacted by someone whom he had given his resume a while back. The job itself was almost perfect: it was within 10 minutes of home, a move in line with his dream career, a good environment with Christians, and they had contacted him! The hitch was that the position was currently slated to be part-time, and thus could not provide financially unless it was restructured to be full-time. In talking with the organization, my friend was told to put together a proposal for making the position full-time position (and detailing what he would do with it), and last week, the "powers that be" had a meeting to review funding the position as such.

Many of us have been in a situation like this before - maybe not with a job, but with something else that we desperately want God to do. Then, after a long and patient wait, it seems that He is moving on our prayers! We watch with amazement as "divine circumstances" and prayers seem to finally intersect, and wonder at how God could so masterfully weave the improbable with reality. Often, as the fulfillment of the desire gets closer and closer, we feel affirmed in our hearts and spirits, and even can feel like God is confirming that this is what He wants for us. For example, my experience came when I was 14 and waiting to come out of puberty... or, uh... waiting for a friend to come out of puberty. But I digress.

Sometimes, He does confirm his word, and it happens. Other times, however, everything falls through at the last minute when everything seemed like it was all but in the bag. Or even worse... the object of our desire stalls just short of cresting that last hill, and rolls back further than it came in the first place. In my friend's case, everything seemed to be going swimmingly until he received a message on his answering machine: "Some new things came up, and we've filled the position internally."

After over a year of waiting, and coming so close to something that seemed so right on so many levels, one has to ask: “Why God?” Why tease me with this? Why bring something so close, only to have it not work out? Why not just let me keep praying until You are ready to bring it to fruition? Is this even what You want for me? I thought this is what You were saying... I thought You were leading me to this? What gives?

This is really not very different from any type of painful event in our lives – whether a deep desire is kept from us, or a good thing in our life is suddenly taken away or ruined – health, relationship, a home. All of us have been there for something.There are several responses that I have heard over the years in situations like this, and often times, if you share the issue with enough people, you’ll hear each at least once! Among the favorites:

The Cinderella: You may think that you've lost the prince forever and that joy was just a fool's dream, but God's about do something even more amazing in your life! Just wait!

The Joshua: You can see the Promised Land... just claim it in faith man! It's yours if you just keep marching around those walls and believe. Claim it! Pray even more!

The Moses: Maybe there is something in your life that is keeping you from "entering in" to God’s promises. Perhaps God wants you to deal with some sin in your life, and keep you in the desert for awhile. Do you have any idols in your life that you’re not letting go of? This may feel hard, but it's mercy, really- it’s good for you.

The Ying-Yang: Look, everything has a purpose. You can't understand it, but you've just got to believe that everything has a balance and works itself out in the end.

The Eve: We live in a fallen world. This wasn't God - it was the product of sinful people making decisions in sin. It wasn't "meant to happen"- they messed up. Or you did.

The Beelzebub: Satan is really attacking you right now. He’s out to mess up this great work of God; rebuke the enemy! Bind him, and you’ll see the breakthrough. (By the way, it usually doesn’t hurt to “bind him” many, many times over. And don’t forget to cast him to either the outer darkness, or to the feet of Jesus.)

The Green-Thumb: God just wants to grow you. You are maturing as I watch you- amazing! Praise Him for hardship and suffering!

The Avoider: Well, I’ll be praying for that. What’s the score?

…someone who has given years of work for a Godly purpose, only to see the effort erased in a moment
…a parent whose child does not and may never have a relationship with God
…a friend whose spouse leaves them for another lover
…a relative who is ridden for life with physical pain from a simple, senseless accident?

RuinedForLife.Net is up and running

2005-05-09T12:41:00.000-07:00

This blog is located at http://www.ruinedforlife.net! Come on over to the house for a visit... it's a much better place than this ugly old page. :)