Second Drafts

Have Biblical Imagination, Will Travel

Off again this weekend, this time to Willowick, OH. Here's a new video with Mike filmed at March's Biblical Imagination conference in Normal, IL, for a peek at what this is all about.

Us (A Poem for Mother's Day)

A lot seems our lot in life these days.
Would you change it if you could?
Could we change us if we should?

I wonder what you think when you wonder what I feel.
Or is it "if" I feel, "if" you think - what's our deal?
And yet somehow we work.

Us.

Did you think it would be this hard?
Could you do it again, or do I not want to know?
Would you say if I asked, or should I just let it go?

I doubt you will say, but then you say, "Without a doubt."
You doubt I believe you, but I believe there is some doubt.
And yet somehow we work.

Us.

But it's not us - at least not only.
Wouldn't we say we work in Him as He works in us?
If both and either ended, we could/would not keep trust.

I sense that you agree and agree that this makes sense.
The "one" of you and me requires the One of Three.
And this is how we work.

Us.

Some Blessings...No Turning Back

A couple weeks ago, I lamented that I had Some Regrets...No Doubts about our move to Oklahoma. As promised at the end of that entry, it's time to write the follow-up post.

Today marks 100 days on the job as Head of School of Veritas Classical Academy. In making it this far, I've been so grateful for the kindness, care, and friendship shown to my family, and the many prayers and expressions of support for my leadership at Veritas. During the past 100 days, I’ve listened – to parents and students, to faculty and staff, to our Board of Directors and the Lord – to learn what of the past seven years has made the school who we are now, all while planning and positioning us for the next seven (and beyond). It's been incredibly challenging, but as personally fulfilling as anything I've done.

I love getting to see my kids during their school days, but strangely, this has been more awkward for me than for them. During the first week, I felt really embarrassed for them when they saw me and ran up and hugged me during the day. I wonder how long their enthusiasm for Dad will last, but since they don't seem to mind or feel pressure to behave differently, I'm happy to let it continue as long as it will (I just need to get used to it).

In addition to my own kids, I'm enjoying the other 243 students enrolled at our two campuses. While I'm still learning names and trying desperately to keep up with everything required to run a school, the kids have been kind and open with me, as have many of their parents. One particularly enjoyable bunch of students is my Headmaster's Conclave, a lunch group of juniors and seniors. We meet every other week to talk about their studies, their lives, and their perspectives on how we can improve Veritas. It's been enlightening to hear from them (and they've been more than willing to provide "the new guy" with their honest thoughts).

I could go on - about our teaching staff (all of whom I love); about our administrative team (all of whom are so committed to the school); about our board of directors (all of whom I feel safe with); and about classical Christian education (all of which I am learning so much, but still have so much to learn). It's been great - really exhausting, but great.

On the non-school front, I'm encouraged with the relationships we're beginning to cultivate in our neighborhood, which has thankfully turned out to be much more socially and ethnically diverse than I imagined. Over Labor Day weekend, we organized a cul-de-sac party and over 30 people turned out, many of whom had lived here for years and were re-introducing themselves to each other as they had just not kept up over time. The girls have made friends in the neighborhood and the weather has finally cooled off to make being outside an option (though actually being home remains my biggest challenge).

As you may know, one of the other reasons we moved to OKC was to help my college roommate/co-author, Doug Serven, plant City Presbyterian, the first PCA church in the Oklahoma City limits. Here's a picture from one of our first leadership meetings in June:

And here's a picture from our first "preview" worship service this past Sunday evening:

As you can see, our chairs runneth over. Granted, not all of these people are going to stick around as part of City Pres (several were simply well-wishers from other churches while others were there to see one of the nine baptisms that took place), but it was fun to pull everything together and provide an opportunity for folks to hear the Scriptures proclaimed, to partake in the sacraments of communion and baptism, and to visualize the future of Oklahoma City with a Reformed church in its downtown.

As we don't anticipate formally launching a weekly service until perhaps the spring, we'll be meeting in City Groups (ours meets on Tuesday evenings) and in Sunday night vision rallies until then. However, it was especially fun for me to see Megan enjoy offering of her behind-the-scenes gifts of service and hospitality (not to mention picture-taking), as well as see our girls jump in and help set up, pull off, and pick up after the service. Having been dragged along to so many of the leadership meetings over the summer, they felt real ownership for the service and the church, which was hugely exciting.

In thinking through all of this - school, neighborhood, church, family - I keep coming back to Psalm 16, which has, for the past six years or so, become one of my fortunate favorites:

    Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.
    I say to the LORD, “You are my Lord;
        I have no good apart from you.”
    As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,
        in whom is all my delight.
    The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply;
        their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out
        or take their names on my lips.
    The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup;
        you hold my lot.
    The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
        indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
    I bless the LORD who gives me counsel;
        in the night also my heart instructs me.
    I have set the LORD always before me;
        because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.
    Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
        my flesh also dwells secure.
    For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
        or let your holy one see corruption.
    You make known to me the path of life;
        in your presence there is fullness of joy;
        at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
(Psalm 16 ESV)

Some blessings...no turning back. Grateful to God for who he is and all he is doing.

Some Regrets...No Doubts

On Friday, the girls and I got home from school around 2 p.m., as Veritas is only in session on Fridays until 12:30. My normal "Daddy's home" routine is to greet Megan (usually with a hug), greet the dogs (also usually with a hug), and then head upstairs, change clothes, and collapse on the bed for a period of time in direct proportion to what kind of day/week it's been.

As we just finished our first week - a very good but exhausting one - my time on the bed went a little longer than normal. After 45 minutes of repeatedly falling asleep but then being awakened by one of four daughters, I gave up the idea of a nap and came downstairs. The girls wanted to watch something, but I was not in the mood for Phineas & Ferb; thus, we pulled up Chariots of Fire on Netflix and enjoyed.

There's a scene toward the end of the film in which Erid Liddell can only watch the finals of the race he was favored to win (the 100-yard dash) because his Sabbath conviction stood in the way of participating in the qualifying heats the previous Sunday. As Liddell is sitting in the stands waiting for the race to begin, a friend leans over to him and asks if he has any regrets. Liddell's response: "Some regrets...no doubts."

I resonated with Liddell's sentiment. Moving to Oklahoma has hardly been an awful thing and I have no doubts we are supposed to be here. But I'd be lying if I said there weren't some regrets that I've been processing and feeling this summer.

I suppose the first source of grief is just the loss of time and money that goes with any major transition. In thinking back through all the hours invested praying and wrestling with the pros and cons, asking questions and communicating decisions, selling a house and buying a house, packing, loading, moving, unloading, and unpacking, and paying for it all, I regret the toll our move required and the burden it placed on our family. A look at my minimal reading list or our bank account confirms that it's been a tough seven months.

Second, I regret distancing the relationships we had in St. Louis (as well as the ones previously distanced in Colorado Springs before we moved from there). We've always been fortunate to have surrounded ourselves with good people, but that fact is not always comforting when you have to leave them behind. I miss those I used to work with, went to church with, laughed with, argued with, and just loved being with. These are wounds that I don't anticipate healing completely.

Third, I miss the simplicity of "just being a teacher" and being able to focus exclusively on the science and art of teaching. I first felt this reality in May, when I finished teaching and started my new role as Head of School ten days later (moving in between), but being around kids this past week really made me miss the classroom and the discussions I got to have with students all day long.

Fourth, I miss the Midwest and the common sense spirit of keeping your head down and your nose to the grindstone because, well, that's what people do in the Midwest. Granted, the Southwest is perhaps not that different, but while I never thought I'd miss the weather in St. Louis, after living through the hottest summer on record in Oklahoma, I confess I miss that as well.

Finally, I regret the potential risks I've exposed my family (and others) to in leaving a well-established, well-respected, and well-funded school in an amazing brand new building run by seasoned leaders who know what they're doing in order to be a first-time Head of School in a fledgling education movement that rents limited space every week in two churches just to have a place to meet three days a week. I won't say the pressure's overwhelming yet, but there is pressure, and I feel it on a variety of levels.

Some regrets, yes. Plenty of them. But no doubts. None at all. I'll write about why in my next post.

So This Is Oklahoma?

Believe it or not, yes, it is. The flying bird/bat things? Parachute surfers on Lake Hefner, which is approximately two miles from our house here in Oklahoma City. Weird, eh? It's like California (minus the light sand and snowballing state government deficit).

Non-surprises: Highway 44 (previously the formerly famous Route 66) is not nearly as romantic when you've been on it for six hours (the trip takes a good eight from St. Louis); we should have rented a semi-truck instead of Budget's 24-footer (thanks to everyone back in the STL who helped Megan load up our second round of stuff on Friday); and, while the house is a wreck, it really is going to be a great place for all of us to call home (especially when we finally get to close on the silly thing on Monday).

We had some good help get us set up last Tuesday. Thanks to Becky, Josh, Brent, and Ruth below (among others) for helping a very happy Chloe set up her bed:

A prayer request: Keith (pictured with me above) is a men's minister with First Stone Ministries. He and his wife, Lisa, are the folks we're buying the house from and they have been nothing but a pleasure to work with through the process. Unfortunately, their attempt to purchase a home in Norman has been far from enjoyable due to a contrary seller. As a result (and because we're here now), they're displaced and hoping not to have to double-move their stuff (they also are trying to find new homes for Boomer and Lloyd - their dog and cat - for whom our own Peaches is currently providing hospitality.) Anyway, if you think of it, pray for their deal to work out and that all would be well for them.

So, we're here and glad to be so. I'll have more pics and posts to come; until then, suffice it to say that after our twelfth move in 14 years of marriage, it's good to be home (again).

More Than April Showers or May Flowers

About a year-and-a-half ago, I had the idea that it might be a good idea to mark turning 40 (which happened last month) with a 40-day fast from food and media. My goal (as detailed here) was "to spend my extra time reading the Bible, praying, and writing about what God may have should he grant me another 40 years."

The media fast was easy: I didn't touch Facebook, Twitter, or the blog and I didn't miss it. The food fast was much harder, as I attempted a water-only fast (I did have a couple of cups of tea after Day 4 just to taste something other than my mouth). Things were going well enough until my doctor pulled the plug on the fast at the end of Day 10 because I had too many ketones in my blood and could have developed serious kidney problems. While disappointed, I was glad it was her decision to end the fast rather than mine (though she never wrote me that prescription for Five Guys Burger & Fries like I asked).

I lost twenty pounds in those ten days and learned how much food can be an idol for me. I also had a great time reading the Old Testament prophets, listening to God convey his love for his people even in the midst of their sin and rebellion and writing out prayers of confession for myself and supplication for others. Finally, I thanked God for the gift of life and asked him for his favor on another 40 years if he would be so gracious. I had no agenda for this time other than to seek God and to read, listen, and write. In the spirit of the prophets, I even grew a beard that didn't look half bad.

On day 39 of this 40-day period, I received an email out of the blue from Julie Serven, wife of Doug (of three-year Mizzou roommate/TwentySomeone co-author fame). After wishing me an early birthday, she wrote:

"I wanted to ask if you would have any interest in pursuing a new career direction? Our Head of School has recently taken a position with a school in Alabama. He has done a great job the last couple of years and has helped in taking the school to a more developed level.

We need someone who is both visionary but also very administratively gifted. Someone with teaching experience, preferably in high school, and experience with managing and working with people. Someone who appreciates the value of a home component in education and is willing to encourage and partner with parents interested in doing so. Someone who could help train the teachers, pastor the parents, and love the kids. Sound like anyone you know? It does to me."

Somewhat dumbfounded by Julie's email and the opportunity she was asking me to consider, I finished my 40 days asking God if this would be something he would have me pursue. While I have absolutely loved teaching these past five years (four at Westminster Christian Academy, one at Heritage Classical School), I had wondered more than once whether I was using my administrative and leadership gifts to the fullest extent that I could. This question was not one of ambition but of stewardship: Was there more God was calling me to do for the Kingdom in the realm of Christian education? Was this role with Veritas an opportunity I was to trust him for in doing so?

After talking with Megan and seeking counsel from several here and elsewhere who know and love us, we decided it was worth pursuing. I composed a letter and resume, notified references, and sent along my testimony and philosophy of education. A week later, the Veritas board flew Megan and me to Oklahoma City for an exhaustingly thorough weekend-long interview; ten days later (after doing due diligence of considering other applicants), they sent us a very gracious official offer; last weekend, I made one more trip to meet with the board to discern face-to-face if indeed this was God's will for all involved. By the end of the meeting, it seemed good to all of us; thus, I accepted the role.

The school, Veritas Classical Academy, now has 260 students Pre-K through 11th (they are adding 12th grade next year) and currently meets at a church in south OKC. Because of interest in the Edmond/North OKC area, they will be starting a north grammar campus (Pre-K to 5th) with 50 students this coming fall. Plans are to open a south grammar campus in Norman the year after that (starting with 50 students), and then move to purchase land/building for a central upper school campus the year or two after that, the idea being that there would be several feeder grammar schools and one central upper school (6th to 12th, 7th to 12th, or 9th to 12th). They follow a blended (university) model (half in-class instruction and half home instruction), seek to be reasonably (as opposed to maniacally) classical, and are trans-denominational as a school (though the board seeks to be winsomely Reformed in setting and implementing policies).

My role as Head of School will focus primarily on areas of creating and modeling the school's climate and values, recruiting, hiring, and training faculty, leading and counseling staff and parents as they educate their students, resolving conflict and handling disciplinary matters, and working with the board on strategic planning. Secondarily, I will also be responsible (with the help of others) for the alignment and development of curriculum, public relations, fundraising, finance, and other matters of policy and administration pertaining to the school. Oh, and I'll still get to teach a class or two each semester. It's a big job, but one I believe my education and experience (not to mention the wealth of mentoring relationships and supportive friendships I've benefitted from over the years) have prepared me for.

One other pleasant convergence: Doug and Julie have been asked to plant a new PCA church - City Presbyterian - in downtown OKC, starting with an initial gathering of core group members this summer. As if building and leading not just a school but an eventual school system weren't enough, helping to plant an urban church with dear friends we've known for 20 years (Doug and Julie were Megan's NavStaff at Oklahoma State after the three of us graduated from Mizzou together) just seems to be icing on the cake. Who knows? Doug and I might even get ThirtySomewhere finished now that we'll be in the same town.

Spring has brought more than April showers or May flowers for the Dunham family, and we're grateful to God for his leading. While we're looking down the barrel of what promises to be a very intense 3-4 months, we are trusting God to provide above and beyond what we need emotionally, physically, and spiritually as he continues to guide us in this new step of faith. Here's a look at what's ahead (thanks in advance for any prayers on our behalf):

MARCH

10-11: Westminster Christian Academy Parent/Teacher Conferences
11-12: Crossroads Presbyterian Fellowship Women's Retreat
19-24: Spring Break (house-hunting in Oklahoma City)
28: Opening Day (JV Baseball)

APRIL

8-9: Biblical Imagination Conference (Dallas)
15: Classical Conversations Banquet
22-24: Easter Break

MAY

7: Studio Forte Ballet Recital
12: Last Day (JV Baseball)
14: St. Louis Children's Choirs Spring Concert
23: WCA Graduation
27: WCA Last Day of School

JUNE

6: First Week at Veritas (Oklahoma City)
16-18: Association of Classical & Christian Schools Conference (Atlanta)
24-25: Biblical Imagination Conference (Apple Creek, OH)

For Megan's perspective on the move, click over to Half-Pint House.

Man Crushes & Bromances: The Movie

Jon Barlow and I have been online "friends" (Facebook, blog comments, etc.) for probably 4-5 years, live five minutes apart, are graduates of the same seminary, have many mutual friends in the PCA, and are involved with the same school (I'm a teacher; he's on the board). Both of us have four kids each (I have four daughters; Jon has four sons), and we both love our wives, our kids, theology, philosophy, good writing, interesting music, and well-made films. We both think pretty well in terms of pop culture, and both of us probably spend too much time online (though Jon's finishing his PhD at SLU, so I'm not sure).

The funny thing is, while there seems to be a degree of mutual respect for one another, Jon and I have never met face-to-face. I think our story would make a good movie.

Here's the thing: the thirties are a busy time - possibly the busiest, I've been told by many, for a variety of reasons (young families growing, career paths taking off/changing, etc.). For those of us guys who are more introverted and emotionally fragile (yes, I'm being serious), it can be hard to get below the surface of news, weather, and sports with other men. While I can't speak for Jon, I know I haven't had the depth of male relationships in my thirties that I had in my twenties; more breadth, yes, but depth, no.

Here's a post from Jon's blog which, after reading, I knew we could be friends:

"At church, I feel like a ghost. It is so hard to get to know people in the few milling-around minutes that are available each Sunday. Especially when you've gotta watch your four boys to be sure they aren't running around or misbehaving. At school, I feel like a ghost. What am I going to do - hang out around the office and talk theology? How is that going to ever happen? I'm least ghost-like at home in the few hours between when I get home and when the boys go to bed, and I'm least ghost like in situations where I have to be there for a set amount of time to do some task. But even at the office, I find it hard to really get into my co-workers lives and learn about them. I keep thinking how the boss needs to get this project finished so he can bill it and make payroll for me and the others.

Part of this is also just the season of life that one is in at the time. When kids are young, you can't really be hitting the nightlife, whether recreational or educational, even in a great city like St. Louis and even community involvement is very difficult. And so I think you grin and bear it and hope for a better day and just try to stay sane and healthy and do what you can. The hard parts are those quiet moments - maybe you wake up before everyone else or you're in a public restroom or walking somewhere and there's no radio, no television, no one talking, and you're just stuck with yourself and all the crap in your life is circling your brain like electrons around the core of an atom and you're bewildered and saddened. But I guess that's why they invented the cell phone, so that a game of solitaire is never too far away. Pitiful, but true."

What if Jon and I - without ever meeting - wrote a screenplay about two average, semi-interesting, clearly heterosexual guys who are married, have children, and struggle to make ends meet in their quest to educate themselves and others about God's Word and world. And yet while they know of, know about, and know electronically the other, they never meet - on purpose, it seems - even though they have every opportunity to do so geographically, vocationally, and relationally? What would be gained or lost? And do they meet in the end (and so what if they do)?

Last week, Jon posted on his Facebook page that he was in need of some new clothes because, after years of seminary and grad school, all his clothes were wearing out all at once. I happened to have pants that no longer fit me but matched his measurements, so I messaged him and told him I'd be glad to get them to him if we could figure out a drop that maintained our non-acquaintance existence (the whole thing has kind of become a joke between the two of us, but honestly, I think we're both a little afraid of what might happen if we actually meet face to face - too much friendship pressure). As he had a board meeting at school (in my room, no less), we agreed that I would leave the pants in a bag on my desk for him. The drop worked and we maintained our no-meet streak.

Think of all the humorous scenes we could play out like this in a movie. We've already been in the same room together with neither one of us realizing it until later; we've both found out after the fact that we've been at my township's local arts fair at the exact same time but our paths never crossed; we've both had people tell us (or at least I have - I won't speak for Jon) that we'd be fast friends, but for whatever reason, even when we once tried to get our families together for dinner, things didn't work out. (I'm sure we've been at other events that neither one of us knew about the other being there as well.)

But here's the best part (for the movie, at least): What if, after we get the screenplay written (separately, of course) and some independent film company picks it up and produces it, what if as part of the build-up and promotion of the film, we finally meet on opening night at some film festival somewhere, families in tow and with the joke finally over? What if the film turned into some huge commentary on the challenges of real male friendship in an extremes-preoccupied world (sports fans on one end, geeks on the other), as evidenced by the reality that terms like "man crush" and "bromance" have crept into the vernacular as guys try to describe respect and even affection for one another without being talked about with raised eyebrows? What if?

I'm just throwing it out there. Would you go see a flick like that? What other motivations, scenes, or characters might make it compelling to watch? What would you call it? And do any guys resonate with what I'm talking about, or is this a movie no one would go see? I know the idea is rough and needs refining, so here's your chance to make it better.

We Interrupt Our Normally Non-Scheduled Weekend...

Here are some groovy events - several of which I'd love to see a familiar face at if you're in the area - that I'll be part of in the next six weeks. (If you or anyone you know has questions about the conferences, click the links or let me know and I'll fill in details.)

SEPTEMBER

17-18: Griggsville Apple Festival (Uptown Square, Griggsville, IL)
I've written about this cultural tour de force before, but words and pictures just cannot do justice to my hometown's annual fall celebration; you just have to be there. That said, I'm once again looking forward to more time on the farm (now in harvest mode) since our Labor Day visit two weekends ago, as well as to seeing some former high school classmates from back in the day (when you graduated in a class of 30, it doesn't take much to have a yearly class reunion each September).

24-26: Annual Fall Family Camping Trip (Babler State Park, Wildwood, MO)
We always schedule this trip the weekend following Parent/Teacher conferences (after talking with parents for six hours straight and the struggles many of them are having in connecting with their students, I'm usually newly motivated to spend time with my own kids). New activity this year: the family bike ride, as all six of us are bike-mobile (now we just have to figure out how to get all six bikes there).

OCTOBER

1-2: Tour de Cape (Downtown Pavilion, Cape Girardeau, MO)
Speaking of bikes, I've been pseudo-training (about 30 miles/week) to take my first "century ride" this weekend with a couple of co-workers (both of whom are much better bikers than I am). I've never before ridden 100 miles in a day, so we'll see how much Advil it takes to do it when it's all said and done.

8-10: Biblical Imagination Conference with Michael Card (Fredericksburg, VA)
I wrote about this not too long ago, and it seems a little strange that we're less than a month out already. I'm pretty stoked to hang out on the east coast with Mike and company. This is the first conference of what I hope are many to come, so if you're too far from D.C. this time around, hang in there: odds are we'll be coming to you soon.

15-17: TwentySomeone/ThirtySomewhere Conference (Memphis, TN)
My good buddy, Mitchell Moore, is a pastor at Second Presbyterian in Memphis, and he's asked me to come down to speak at a retreat for peeps in their 20s and 30s. Revisiting the material (as well as working on some new for the next book) has been really fun, and I'm still "smokin' what I'm sellin'" (figuratively speaking, of course) in terms of making the most of these decades. Megan and the girls are coming with me, and we'll sight-see around Memphis on Saturday afternoon.

22-24: Megan at The Relevant Conference (Harrisburg, PA)
The good news: I'll be home (and probably won't leave the house if I can help it); the other news: Megan won't be. As she did in Colorado in July, my wife will be taking in another blogging conference - this one of a more devotional than technical nature - in Pennsylvania. I'm interested to see what comes out of her time there, as well as to what degree the two conferences overlap and supplement each other.

That's all for now. We now return you to our normally non-scheduled weekend...

Five Years Later

Here are a few shots from Covenant Seminary's 2010 graduation, in which I earned my second masters, this one in educational ministries. Here I'm receiving my diploma from seminary president Bryan Chapell while commencement speaker Alistair Begg looks on):

With professor Jerram Barrs (I was Jerram's teaching assistant for a year-and-a-half and love him dearly):

With Dr. Donald Guthrie, lead professor of Covenant's education program (I am the Padawan learner to his Jedi knight):

With Dr. Bob Burns, professor of educational leadership and an elder at our church:

With Tom Rubino, with whom I started summer Greek in 2005 and at last finished in 2010 (Tom earned his M.Div. and M.A.C. (counseling) degrees). It meant a lot to both of us to start and finish together.

And of everyone at commencement, here are the five who matter most (thanks, ladies):

It is finished.

We Were Young and We Were Improving

When we moved from Colorado back to the Midwest five years ago, Megan got her first real taste of my tiny hometown's passion for all things basketball and baseball. While she mocked it a bit then, she's since come around to a more accepting position, which was helpful this month, as I was invited back to Griggsville to join in celebrating the career of my junior high school coach, Ken Stauffer.

Coach Stauffer's coaching legacy includes 1,130 wins split between Griggsville's seventh and eighth grade basketball teams, countless regional and sectional trophies, two state basketball championships (with more appearances), and induction into the Illinois Basketball Coaches Association Hall of Fame. He retires with something north of a .750 winning percentage with only two losing seasons over his 38-year career. (For the record, the 7th and 8th grade teams I played on were a combined 39-2. Booyah.)

 

Speaking of those teams, here are seven of the eight guys in my grade who played for Coach Stauffer all through junior high school. Six of the seven of us went on to experience continued team success in our high school years, and as this was the first time all of us had been together in Griggsville in 25 years, a picture seemed appropriate.

As part of the celebration, the school had pulled out a lot of old trophies and pictures, one of which I had completely forgotten about from 1982, but that Megan and the girls found particularly humorous. I was one of two fifth graders to make the eighth grade team that year, and though I didn't get to play in the tournament, I went on to enjoy good success in both junior and senior high baseball later (my only real credential for what I'm doing this spring...ahem).

 

All that to say, it was a fun weekend at home honoring Coach Stauffer, seeing old teammates, and reliving a few of the glory days. Granted, Megan reminded me of her original Uncle Rico post, and my girls couldn't quite believe I was once the age that my oldest is now, but to quote my favorite Midwestern poet:

That's when a sport was a sport
And groovin' was groovin'
And dancin' meant everything
We were young and we were improvin'

Laughin', laughin' with our friends
Holdin' hands meant somethin', baby
Outside the club, 'Cherry Bomb'
Our hearts were really thumpin'

Say, "Yeah yeah yeah"
Say, "Yeah yeah yeah"

-- from "Cherry Bomb" by John Mellencamp

Yeah.

Bubbaville, Super Bowl, Love

When we lived in Colorado, Megan and I hosted an annual White Trash Super Bowl Party.

We took our inspiration from the Colorado Springs neighborhood in which we bought our first house - "Bubbaville," we affectionately called it. You see, we lived down the street from the local Salvation Army; the police helicopters flew over our house every night as we happened to be in the center of their "suspicious behavior" circuit; and our neighbors (with whom we awkwardly shared a driveway) used to loudly ride their four-wheeler around our house for fun.

The idea of an actual party came a couple years later, after we had moved out of Bubbaville and into a different neighborhood across town. We encouraged our friends to embrace their "inner white trash." For our part, we let our then-very-young children run around in nothing but diapers; Megan put on a ton of cheap jewelry and frizzed out her hair; I didn't shower, fix my bedhead, or wear anything but sweats and a white T-shirt. We thought about putting a couple vehicles up on blocks in the front yard, but in the end opted for dragging a bunch of stuff out of the garage and putting up a couple of cheap pink flamingos instead.

Here's an invitation I sent out via email one year:

Our friends gleefully showed up and played their parts: guys wore "wife-beater" T-shirts, fake mullets, and jeans with holes (a la Def Leppard); gals got "creative" with their makeup, giving themselves fake hickeys and black eyes as if they had just fought AND made up with their boyfriends/husbands in our driveway. There were other little kids running around in diapers and pull-ups, and we all sat around laughing at each other - sometimes watching the game, always watching the commercials.

It was funny...and fun...and wrong. Megan felt it...and so did I.

For someone like me, whose sense of humor can seem unfortunately more developed than his sensitivity, having fun at the expense of others is all too easy to be all that good. I learned a long time ago not to use humor as a weapon, but there have been plenty of instances - some public, most private - when I have broken my own cease-fire agreement. The only thing quicker than my brain is my tongue, which can be unfortunate for others when the former follows the latter in an all-out pursuit of anything funny.

When we moved to St. Louis and I got my first full semester of seminary under my belt, the Holy Spirit zeroed in on a couple of areas in my life that caused me to regret and repent of some prejudices I never thought I had. Despite growing up in a county with next to no racial diversity, my prejudices rarely involve race; instead (and as my "white trash" years should have first clued me in), I have to watch out for "education prejudice" - judging others on the education (or the sense of education) I perceive them to have or not have.

While there's more nuance to it than I can describe in words, basically it's a very quick process that goes something like this: if I think I'm smarter than you are, I win; if I don't think I'm smarter than you are, then I ask the question again and again until I can figure out a reason how and why I could be. (Ironically, the ridiculous part in all this is that I assume by default that I'm actually dumber than everyone, which is another example of how sin ratchets up my insecurities and feeds the aforementioned cycle.)

Thankfully - mercifully - I've grown in my understanding of God's love for me through the words and wounds of grace, but the Super Bowl (of all things) and the memories of the "white trash" parties of the past serve as an annual reminder of my need to love others as God loves others, which often - and often simply - means not making fun of them.

As Paul wrote to the Philippians (and as a good friend once shared with me because of my arrogance):

"And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God." Philippians 1:9-11

Go Colts.

(Note: To relive last year's Super Bowl (and commercials), I live-blogged it here.)

Making Beautiful Music

Continuing thoughts from my studies in Educational Leadership (see this previous post for more). Forgive the book report, but that's what it is (though hopefully more "reflective"):

“How you are tuned is another default setting in the system that is yourself. Each person is like a stringed instrument, tuned in a slightly different way from everyone else. As you go through life, your strings resonate with the environment based on your own particular tuning. Your tuning derives from many different things: your childhood experiences, genetic predispositions, cultural background, gender, and loyal identifications with various current and historical groups. Your tuning in your professional life may also be affected temporarily or long term by what is happening in your personal life.”
The Practice of Adaptive Leadership, p. 195

“Your sin ignites the sin in me.”
Bill Thrall in The Ascent of a Leader

Reading in chapter 15, I really liked and “resonated” (pun intended) with the metaphor of people being stringed instruments. I also really appreciated the admonishment to be more aware of our individual “tuning” so as to be more capable of discerning what’s going on in us and in others when tension and conflict emerge.

Contagion of sin fascinates me: passages in Psalms and Proverbs promise our sin will pass down to third and fourth generations, but we also pass on sin to those in the same generation (and often the same room). “Sin migration” intrigues because, though sad, it’s so tangible to watch. My vibrating strings cause others’ string to vibrate for good or ill (and vice versa) – sometimes we make beautiful music together; other times, not so much.

I liked how the authors talked about how vibrating strings “may prevent you from seeing the situation more fully and may inhibit you from responding in productive ways” (199). I apply this idea when, over a period of a few hours or even days, I can get worked up over something that someone else’s additional vibrations playing along inflame by adding to the noise. This is why gossip and slander are so dangerous for me, and why I do my absolute best to try to avoid them – they can vibrate all too easily in my own mind and heart.

I also liked how the authors said that “the more finely tuned your strings become over time, the more you are at risk of seeing the things happening in the environment you are sensitive to, even when they are not there” (199). As a very high intuitive, I’ve caught myself responding to a lot of string vibrations that either weren’t vibrating as loudly as I perhaps thought they were, or sometimes even at all. Combine my high receptivity with a high moral (at times, moralistic) perspective, and I can die on a hill for just about anything in minutes. (It’s hard to lead people when you’ve died before the battle begins.)

This leads to the third point I really appreciated: “When others know how you are tuned, they have more power to entice you to partner with them to support their own interests or to derail you from yours” (199). This could also be translated as “pulling one’s chain,” or in the authors’ language, “plucking one’s strings.” I wouldn’t say I’ve fallen prey to others too often in this, but that has more to do with the quality of character and trust of those around me more than anything.

As the authors note, our greatest strength is often our greatest weakness. My intuition can easily be an Achilles Heel in the hands of others with different motives other than love. Thankfully, those around me recognize who I am and how I think; they love me by not trying to stifle or manipulate my intuitive sense, but at the same time, they help keep it in perspective by trusting me with their need and desire for it. There's nothing like someone looking you in the eye and depending on you to keep you honest.

Apples to Apples: Case Study in Relativism

For those about to accuse me of party-pooping or being a kill-joy, rest assured: you're not the first and won't be the last. Keep in mind you're reading the blog of a guy who actually fell asleep at his senior prom, as well as on more than one occasion has used his newborn-, toddler-, and now nearly tween-children (even when behaving well) for as good an excuse as any for leaving a party early.

In other words, I'm not a game-player. But I appreciate that you might be. Just don't ask me to play with you. Ever.

That said, why blog about the game Apples to Apples? More than the fact that our family owns it, Megan and the girls love it, and we've had neighbor friends over last night and today, I'm writing about the game because it's perfect to teach kids about relativism.

I know, I know: leave it to me to ruin a perfectly good game. But stick with me (and no, I don't think the game is evil, nor have I thrown ours out). For those unfamiliar, here's the basic gist of Apples to Apples, according to the website Love to Know:

"The game is played by the Judge selecting one card from one deck and dealing cards from the other deck to the players. The object of the game is for the players to select the best card from their hand to match the word on the card selected by the Judge."

But here's what makes it "fun" (or so I'm told): the role of the Judge rotates, so the whole point of the game becomes trying to choose not what goes together, but what you think the person thinks goes together. This, of course, can vary depending on the Judge's relationship to you, not to mention his or her preferences, mood, or reason for choosing (or not choosing) what you present as a match.

In other words, egoism, which is a form of relativism. Thomas Hobbes would love this game; David Hume as well.

For instance, here's a round from my kids' Apples to Apples game last night:

Judge: my seven-year-old daughter

Apple card: crazy

Options: my family, cats, penguins, fairies

I might have thought my daughter would have labeled her family crazy (at times, we would certainly qualify). And yet, knowing my daughter as one particularly attune to others' feelings, she would never say that about us (or anyone else). She loves cats and likes penguins, but she doesn't think of them as crazy; they're just animals. But fairies? She's crazy about fairies (or, I should say, the idea of fairies), so that's what she chose. For her, crazy equals fairies.

Another round:

Judge: our friends' nine-year-old daughter

Apple card: dull

Options: pirates, mashed potatoes, orange juice, snowboarding

Personally, I would have chosen snowboarding here, because even after living in Colorado for twelve years, I just don't get snow sports (something about still being able to walk at the end of the day, etc.). However, as our friends' nine-year-old daughter (who is as black and white in the decision-making process as they come) was the judge, three guesses as to which she picked? Yep, mashed potatoes. For her, dull equals mashed potatoes.

Again, I'm not trying to bash Apples to Apples - it's an entertaining game and kids of all ages tend to like it (even some of my high school students are fans). Instead, I'm thinking that here's a perfect opportunity to teach our kids about worldview and human nature by helping them recognize what's really going on that makes the game so enjoyable.

When we're the Judge, we get to make the matches, while everyone else trying to win has to please us to do so. We don't have to have good reasons (or any reasons at all) for what we choose - the matches are in the eye of the beholder - and we can even choose against reason to spite someone else just because we can.

But what happens when we're not the Judge? What about when someone (or Someone) else is? Hmmm.

If you never invite me over for board games, I'll completely understand. And don't worry: I'll probably be relieved.

It's August (and the Show Must Go On)

Here's a shot of our newly-formed Half Pint House Theatre and their production of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. As a way of tapping into the girls' dramatic tendencies (no shortage there), I had the idea to throw together this little stage at one end of our attic (which also gave me a good reason to clean it out). In addition to Goldilocks, the ladies have performed a smashing interpretation of Little Red Riding Hood, and are currently working on a script of their own (the show, after all, must always go on).

Indeed, it must in real life as well. And, as it is now August, I feel compelled to "go on with the show" here after my blogging sabbatical, writing more frequently and giving whatever friends I have left in the blogosphere something other than a monthly update of inconsequential nonsense (my goal is more consequential nonsense).

That said, here are some reports/reflections to grease the skids and get the ball rolling:

Family. In case you didn't hear, we survived our Florida trip; in fact, rumor has it that we've broken our vacation curse (until we take another one, that is). In addition to engaging with the power and beauty of the ocean at Ormond Beach, seeing all those with whom we stayed along the way was definitely a highlight of the trip (at least for us). Somehow, the 36 hours in the van were even tolerable, as the girls read, sang, fought, made up, laughed, and saw more of the southeast than they probably thought even existed (we don't allow videos or computers in the van, so they had no choice). Good times, good times.

Writing. Little has happened on the publisher front for ThirtySomewhere, but we are scheduled to hear back from WaterBrook in the next week with an official "yea" or "nay" as to whether they want to publish our second book. Unfortunately, any progress on the manuscript has run in tandem with the publishers' interest (or lack thereof - one said his editorial board felt the thirties could be summed up in a magazine article, not a book!?), so not much to report here but disappointment.

Bookstore. On average, I spent a day or two a week working in Covenant Seminary's bookstore, where I've worked part-time for the past year. It's fun to think back to when I first started a year ago and laugh - I was so clueless on the retail end of things. Though I wouldn't say I love selling stuff any more than I do now, I definitely feel more comfortable dealing with it. I'll be working roughly the same shift this fall - three afternoons a week from 4-6, with the occasional Saturday thrown in - and am glad for the work.

Seminary. After completing my MA in Theology this past May at Covenant, I only have two more education classes to take to earn my MA in Educational Ministries in May 2010. Megan is also finishing up her graduate certificate this year by taking the last four of her 30 hours), so we're hoping to walk across the stage together at graduation next year (we have 9 months to figure out childcare).

Church. We're formally being interviewed this Sunday for membership at Crossroads Prebysterian Church here in Maplewood. We've been attending Crossroads since January. One of our goals as members of Christ's Body is to be as local as possible in our involvement, and Crossroads fits the bill - it takes about 10 minutes to walk around the corner and up the street (now if we can only leave early enough on Sunday mornings so we don't have to drive because we'll be late otherwise).

Neighborhood. Speaking of Maplewood, we're still really enjoying what I call "blue-collar bohemia," and look forward to a formally planned night out with many of our neighbors this month. It's also fun living so close to "Baseball Heaven" (i.e. Busch Stadium), especially with the Cardinals newly rejuvenated and ready to make a post-season run. Go Redbirds!

Westminster. Today begins in earnest my hands-on work for the curriculum planning I did earlier in July. I have much thinking to do, many notes to condense, and plenty of multi-media to find/create. I'm teaching the same classes (New Testament Survey with freshmen, Biblical Ethics with sophomores) as the past two years, but I have very few returning students I know and a schedule I'm not all that excited about (out of seven periods, my prep periods are 2 and 3!?). Still, I'm looking forward to school.

That's about it for now. Personally, I have several things I've been thinking about this summer that I'll save for another post or two. Until then, let this serve as notice that I'm back on the blogging horse. Yee-haw.

Oh, and with regard to it being this time of year, I'll leave you with some perspective from Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, as quoted in Newsweek:

"I'm not afraid of August. It's a month."

Indeed it is, Nancy. Indeed it is.

All Must Be Well

My mom and I had lunch Saturday, as she was in town for a Mary Kay conference at the St. Louis Convention Center. I took her to Tigin, an Irish pub Megan and I had discovered as part of a mystery shop date a few months ago - cool place. I can't remember the last time I had a meal with my mom that didn't include Dad, Megan, or any combination of children, so we had a novel time catching up.

The conversation went a variety of directions, but one topic that came up was all the debt America is accruing and the impact of that on multiple generations. I've never known Mom to get upset by too many things political, but she had obviously spent some time thinking about the consequences for her children and grandchildren. She was concerned, she said, and spoke of how, the older she gets, the more realistic she's trying to be in adding to - rather than spending - our inheritance.

Thanking her for her thoughtfulness and honesty, I shared a little of my perspective (semi-transcribed versions here and here if you're interested) on the mess the government is making of the financial sector, as well as a little about the moral dilemmas (here, here, here, here, and here just to link a few) that will impact our nation's future in ways as significant as any financial crisis. The conversation could have turned into a real bummer had not we ended up agreeing there's really little hope for things apart from the grace of God. Simply put, it was a good and meaningful time.

Finishing lunch and dropping Mom off at the Convention Center for the rest of her conference, I made my way to Clayton for a wedding. My friend and teaching colleague, Abby Doriani, was due to get married at 2:00, but I underestimated the hassle the I-64 repair shutdown from Kingshighway to Hanley would be and realized I was going to be late. I finally made it to Clayton, found a parking place, and ran up to the church, figuring I missed Abby's procession, but would at least make it for the remainder of the ceremony and reception.

As I opened the front door to sneak in, I almost ran over Abby's dad, Dr. Dan Doriani, who was leading Abby and the bridesmaids up the stairs into the foyer before proceeding into the sanctuary. As I had Dr. Doriani for several classes at Covenant, I smiled and shook his hand, trying to be mindful of the fact that he probably had a lot on his mind and now might not be the best time for small talk. I waved to Abby, who looked beautiful in her wedding gown, and then I headed up the stairs to the sanctuary to find a seat.

At the top of the stairs, I saw Abby's mother, Debbie, and gave her a hug. Far from being a dreaded mother-of-the-bride, Debbie was all smiles, asked how I was, thanked me for coming to the wedding, and reassured me there were plenty of seats left, but I would have to go in after Abby and her dad did as the seating of grandparents had already started. She gave me a quick wave, then took her place at the door to the sanctuary and was escorted in by one of the ushers, followed by Abby's first two bridesmaids.

This left Abby, her dad, her two younger sisters (each of whom was a matron/maid of honor), and me standing in the foyer. Abby noticed me trying to blend into the wall so as not to intrude on the family moment, but as it obviously wasn't working, she humorously asked how I was enjoying my behind-the-scenes experience of her wedding. I laughed and said I was just taking notes. Her sisters each gave her a kiss and went in, and then it was Abby's turn to walk arm-in-arm with her dad through the doors to get married.

More than most, the wedding ceremony was a very warm reminder of how the God-given institution of marriage is (and is to be) a reflection of Christ's relationship with his bride, the Church. In his charge to the couple, Dr. Doriani spoke of the differences between romantic and divine love, but stressed the need for both in marriage. Vows were taken, the community affirmed them, and everyone rejoiced in the fact that two were becoming one before their very eyes. It was a beautiful thing, and afterward, we all went downstairs for cake and punch (another beautiful thing).

For me, the afternoon was an insightful one: in light of the good but sobering discussion with Mom at lunch, I needed the reassurance of Christ's relationship with his Church that a marriage ceremony can provide; despite the pressures of the day, I saw parents who didn't make their daughter's marriage all about them (or even about her), but about Christ's relationship with his Church; and, strangely for the first time, I imagined my own daughters getting married - each with her three sisters as bridesmaids - and prayed that their weddings would reflect Christ's relationship with his Church as well...even if there's little money to pay for them...or even less morality left in our culture to care.

This morning at church, we sang the following verse:

"We expect a bright tomorrow, all will be well
Faith can sing through days of sorrow, all is well
On our Father's love relying, Jesus every need supplying
Yes, in living or in dying, all must be well"

Because of Christ's relationship with his Church, all must be well...both in the now and the not yet. I needed that reminder, and I'm grateful to God for it this Lord's Day.

The Contentment Equation

I had a tough discussion with a student this week - tough not because of the student, but because of the student's family situation. Details aren't important for my purposes here, so I'll refrain from sharing any; suffice it to say, I wanted to help a lot more than I could. Leaving school, I prayed for the student, asking God to grant strength and maturity in handling parents who are both behaving badly.

As I was praying, I wondered when the last time the student had ever felt real and extended contentment in life. Was it within the past year? Doubtful - we've been processing the situation together since at least November. Any time during the teenage years? Possibly, but most of what the student is dealing with has been years in the making, and teenagers pick up on that stuff. When my student was in elementary school? I hope not (that would be a while ago). Even before then? Man.

I think about stuff like this a lot - not just with kids, but adults as well. My theory (and I'm just throwing it out here) is that the further a person has to go back to find real and extended contentment, the older they feel and seem to others. Granted, this idea may not be rocket science (and I'll grant that my definitions of "real" and "extended" are more than a bit fuzzy), but I wonder if a math-type could put together an equation to qualitatively test my hypothesis; all I've got is a gut feeling it's true.

As any good teacher asks a student for an answer to his own question, I tried to answer mine. When was the last period of real and extended contentment for me? When was the first? How many have there been in between? Most importantly (I think), how young (or old) does the accumulation or absence of these make me seem to others? I'll be honest: I feel (and have felt) pretty content for much of the past year, but has that been contentment or just happiness? What really marks a difference between the two?

A favorite passage on this topic is Paul's statement in Philippians 4:11-13:

"I have learned in whatever situation I am to be a content. 12 I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. 13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

God's promise in verse 13 is every Christian's favorite - that is, until they discover that being content is what God promises to strengthen us for (instead of just winning sport events or passing tests). For hermeneutical reasons, I stopped applying this verse to non-contentment kinds of things a long time ago, but I'm not sure how recent it's been since I picked it up again to apply it in the right way. I'm not sure I'm that brave.

With regard to my schizophrenic inquiries above, I'm still thinking through my answers; however, I'm as interested in whether the questions are even the right ones as well. What do you think of my equation (try this for starters: PA (perceived age) = AA (actual age) - C (contentment) / T (time))? How accurate does it seem in measuring your own experience? And what does it take for you to feel as well as talk about being content in your own life?

Black Friday on the Farm

I'm doubtful many folks are checking blogs today, but if you are:

• We had a great Thanksgiving here on the farm - fun with family, amazing food, some basketball, a star-filled evening hayride, a couple of naps
• No one has so much as even mentioned doing a little Black Friday shopping
• Megan and the girls are going to see Bolt with my sisters and their kids today
• I'm trying to resist the temptation of my parents' Dish Network and Discovery Channel's Deadliest Catch marathon
• Instead, I'm hoping to write some Old Testament reflections (as they're to be more devotional, I'm going to pull a Wendell Berry and write them longhand)
• Speaking of Wendell, I'm also attempting to resist the temptation of finishing his book, The Memory of Old Jack, which I made the mistake of packing
• We're heading back to St. Louis early tomorrow morning for what will surely be a very sad memorial service and funeral, but look forward to finishing out the Thanksgiving break at home

Thanksgiving is easily my favorite holiday, but the break always feels so short. The good news is, because Thanksgiving was so late this year, I only have two weeks of teaching and a week of finals before two weeks of Christmas break. Enjoy the rest of your holiday weekend, everyone.

Is the Unexamined Friend Not Worth Friending?

About six months ago, I reached the point where the people whom Facebook thought I might know were ones I didn't. This bothered me then, and still does now.

According to Facebook, I have 369 "friends." Yes, yes, I know most of these people, but I only really know a handful of them. My overall list ranges from old high school classmates to high school students I now have in class; in between are a few friends from college, several others from years in Colorado, a bunch of seminary folks, a few acquaintances from church, and various and sundry individuals who I've never met but still felt guilty about not "approving" them when their friend request came in.

One could call it "forced friendship" - like what a shotgun wedding must feel like (minus any responsibility and, well, the shotgun) - but it's really neither (forced or friendship). The sooner we come to understand this, the better we might realize that we are the ones to blame for our superficial idea of what being a friend means.

I used to not approve requests from people I didn't know - at least not without a quick message back asking how we knew each other. I stopped doing this as it seemed too snobbish, but I'm not sure the alternative has any more integrity. Is it better to seem accessible to people you have no reason or plan to engage with, or do you say "thanks, but no thanks" on the front end, perhaps coming off a little precocious at the beginning, but at least authentic to actual reality?

For most of us, our teleology tends to have everything to do with the value of Facebook (or any other social network on the Internet, for that matter), but it seems there should be a more humanity-valuing principle and approach to the dilemma than just a utilitarian/egoistic tendency regarding it. Where's Socrates when we need him?

What would Jesus do? Would Jesus accept all Facebook friend requests, or would he only accept ones from those he chose? The analogy breaks down from a theological perspective (at least from a Calvinist systematic), as only those whom Jesus initially chose would choose to add him as a friend anyway, so never mind.

Forget the question of stealing bread to feed your family; never mind the ethical intricacies of mercy killing and war. To accept Facebook friend requests or not - and then whether to secretly "unfriend" later - this is what this ethics teacher wonders.

(Note: For another take on the topic, try "The Facebook Commandments" at Slate).

Walking the Line Between Loss and Hope

You may not know it (I didn't), but on July 27th of 2005, Congress proclaimed October 15th Stillbirth Remembrance Day, also sometimes called Stillbirth and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Though you might not know it, today is a hard day for many.

It may sound like a gigantic exaggeration, but almost every couple Megan and I know has experienced the pain of losing a child through miscarriage or stillbirth. Almost every one. Several have lost multiple babies interspersed between having multiple healthy ones; others are still trying to have their first after losing those once conceived.

For whatever reason, we have never experienced this kind of loss. We've had some scary moments - our first-born had serious surgery when she was four after a lung collapsed because of pneumonia; our third-born came out blue from having the cord wrapped around her neck during the end of her delivery - but we've never lost a child through miscarriage, stillborn birth, or SIDS. This, of course, has nothing to do with us, just as losing a child has nothing to do with those parents who have.

Though I use the language because it's familiar in our vernacular, I'm no fan of the phrase "losing a child" or of the word "miscarriage," as both imply blame that is wrongly placed on expectant parents. The idea that a pregnant woman has "lost" or "miscarried" a baby implies she once had total and complete power to keep and carry it to term. Which of our female friends misused that power during her pregnancy? None. Which of our male friends was party to such misuse? Not one.

For those who want to cast blame, our biology - or more accurately, our fallen biology - is the culprit, not God. God does not cause loss; God restores. God is not evil; God is good. For those who have recently lost a child or are still struggling with pain from years ago, Romans 8:28 (despite the cheeseball greeting cards misapplying the verse to any and every audience) offers hope to soothe heartache:

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."

The Scriptures tell us that even in the loss of a child, God somehow brings good out of the worst of pain; even when he is often blamed for it, he is at work redeeming these most heart-breaking experiences brought on by the sin of our representative parents, Adam and Eve. We lose our children because we lost our true humanity; each of us is fallen from the glory of perfection in which our parents were first made.

My friend and ethics co-teacher, Larry Hughes, and his wife lost their second child to stillbirth. They named him Sean and had a memorial service in his honor. This morning, I asked Larry what his thoughts were on that day and how he processed the grief he and Nancy felt years ago. He said this:

"To my mind, a key Scripture passage is David’s response when Bathsheba loses their child in 2 Samuel 12. Because of David’s many psalms reflecting his belief of being with God always, I think the response '…he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped…I will go to him, but he will not return to me' is encouraging not only theologically but personally. I think and believe that this, when coupled with the character of God, reassures those who lose their children in childbirth, SIDS, abortions, or in whatever way, that God does indeed take those on to Glory."

David speaks of going to his son in heaven, but recognizes his son will not return to him on earth. He resigns himself to this reality (as evidenced later in chapter 12), but not before having resigned himself to the hope of reunion with his child. The Scripture is a bittersweet but beautiful passage of promise, one that records both David's loss as well as his hope.

Many couples we know have gone through this same double-resignation. Our role as those who support believing parents in their grief should not be to rush them through the pursuit of the second (resigning themselves to the fact), nor to question the legitimacy of the first (resigning themselves to hope of a reunion). It's a fine line to walk, but maybe there's a couple who needs you to try with them today.

It's Up

I'm still figuring out the color changes in CSS (anybody know how to do this easily and without purchasing an upgrade for WordPress?), but kudos to Kent Needler for coming up with such a cool new header for Second Drafts.

Hurricane Ike Hits...St. Louis?

The remains of Hurricane Ike blew through the Midwest late last night and early this morning, downing a tree limb in our backyard, taking out power at our church (we worshipped by candlelight), and flooding the basement of the building that houses the More Than Carpentry ministry our church helps support in Wellston (to answer the question of "why Wellston?," read this story published today in the Post-Dispatch).

While the rain was abundant and hard, the majority of the flooding came from a nearby stream that jumped its banks, leaving an unbelievable six-and-a-half feet of water standing in the basement of the building, which is about the size of a junior high school. I just got back from helping, but there were plenty of folks still working - draining water, salvaging what could be salvaged, and throwing away a lot of ruined materials. There's no worse feeling than walking away from a clean-up effort left undone, but it will literally be weeks before the mess is no longer (if anybody's got a picture from tonight, send it to me and I'll post it here to illustrate what I mean).

This is yet another set-back for the ministry (the building has already suffered break-ins and vandalism), and though people's spirits were upbeat tonight, the damage will surely inflict melancholy on more than we who are naturally gifted with it. As you pray for those in Houston, pray for those in St. Louis (and elsewhere) who, somehow, were affected by the same massive hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico.

From my Bible reading tonight:

"The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over many waters...The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord sits enthroned as king forever." Psalm 29:3,10 (ESV)

Saying Thanks

As part of my Sabbath today, I wrote thank you notes all afternoon - to family who helped us buy and furnish our house; to friends who watched our kids and helped us move; to new neighbors who have been, well, pretty darn neighborly. In doing so, I realized I hadn't really offered any thanks to you, dear readers, for your help in (or tolerance of) our online efforts this past month, so I'd like to do that now.

In response to the CD offer, we ended up with a total of $1,883.21 from 40 different people toward our closing costs. Granted, this amount was short of our initial $3,000 goal, but due to complications the week before we moved, our costs actually went down, so it wasn't a big deal - we had what we needed. We were also able to write a campership check to Eagle Lake for $200, so that was good. To those who bought CDs and/or gave money to our effort, thank you.

Many of you left encouraging comments, sent supportive emails and letters, made enthusiastic phone calls, and generally served as cheerleaders in person throughout the process. Megan and I were both humbled by hearing from total strangers that they were praying for us. To those who shared your own hopes for ours, thank you.

Finally, most readers were patient and stuck with me despite my hijacking my own blog with the occasional inane whining about the home-buying process. To those who endured any especially selfish, narcissistic ranting (even more than my usual daily offering), thank you.

Chesterton said,

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought,
and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."

While I'm not sure about the elevation of a blogged thank you note, the double-wonder of the happiness of my gratitude is real. To any and all who motivated that in me, thank you.

PS: Be sure to check out Megan's thoughts on the first two weeks - good ones, methinks.

In the Air Tonight

Brian Rutland, my first drummer (no, he didn't die the death of a Spinal Tap drummer) is now a pastor in Littleton, CO, and sent me this clip. We used to "cover" Phil Collins's "In the Air Tonight" using lyrics I rewrote from more of an eschatological perspective ("I can feel Him coming in the air tonight" - yeah, it sounds hokey, but it so worked live). The kids (and Brian) would go nuts when he came in with the big drums, and guitarist Dan Madison and I rocked out with him for minutes on end. I laughed long and hard at this one.

Summer Plans

My friend, Ed, asked for a post on what summer holds. Here it is.

1. I'm one of seven Westminster teachers taking 28 high school students on Summer Seminar to South Dakota for two weeks in June. Over the course of a 12-day trip to and through the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota, students will explore the theme of “shalom” (restoration) through three, two-day course cores in literature, ethics, and science. The culmination of the course will be a writing project that integrates a travel journal, a guided project (literary analysis of readings, poetry, photography, etc.), and their understanding of the Christian worldview (I'm in charge of this "integration" part). Should be fun.

2. Speaking of Westminster, I'm hoping to take a half-day a week to work on my teaching. I've kept a semi-detailed calendar of what I covered (either intentionally or unintentionally) each day this past school year, and I'd like to give that some evaluation and attention in order to figure out what I actually taught and how to do it better. Armed with some honest feedback from my students and revised scopes and sequences from the Bible department, I want to put some good work into how to teach as a more effective translator.

3. In addition to thinking about teaching, I'll be participating in a class offered by Covenant titled "Spirit, Church, and Last Things" online this summer. After my experience with Ancient & Medieval Church History this past semester (good class, but I wasn't as consistent as I wanted to be in keeping up), I'm not all that thrilled about online learning, but you do what you've got to get in the classes you need to finish a degree.

4. I've got piles of books from a variety of genres that I want to read. Personally, I'd also like to get back to more devotional reading and journal writing as, for better or worse, the blog has taken over the time I have in the past done both, and I can feel the difference in heart and hand. There's just no replacement for meditative reading and writing, but I've not done much of either for a long while. Oh yeah, I'm also supposed to be writing/finishing the first draft of a book this summer.

5. I'm working on some leader development training and initiatives for Memorial for this summer and fall, and hope to do some planning/recruiting for those. Unfortunately, this is an area that got bumped to the back burner this past school year because of my first year teaching, but I'm glad for the request and opportunity to still be involved in this way a year later. I think our family is also going to start attending a small group over the summer, which should be interesting (I'm not really much of a small group guy).

6. While I've not really gained any significant weight, I'd like to shed some pounds and actually get back on an exercise regimen of some sort. For whatever reason, I just enjoy exercising my brain much more than I do my body. Guess I'm just too Neo-Platonic for my own good.

7. We may get some tickets to a couple Cards games in July - just when it's hot enough to really be miserable. I imagine I'll do a fair amount of yard mowing, grilling, and sweating this summer, not to mention cursing the I-64 construction still going on (it will be interesting to see how increased tourist traffic during the summer months affects things; so far, we've managed, but it's getting old).

8. We'll also make a few weekend trips to the farm over the summer, as there's nothing better than sitting with a cold glass of iced tea out on the back patio listening to the corn grow. I'm sure there will be pictures.

9. While buying a house and moving is, I suppose, still a possibility over the next couple of months, the further we get into summer, the less excited I'm going to be about it. Obviously if the bank warms to our terms soon, we're not going to walk away from things, but we're not exactly going house-hunting either.

10. Of course, the best part about summer will be being home more with Megan and the girls - playing in the backyard, going to the library, reading books, renting and watching a flick, seeing friends, and just being a family. We've tried to keep formal activities for the little ladies to a minimum, so we're hoping it will be pretty laidback. I want/need to read to them more at night (Megan's been handling most of that all school year), as I don't want to miss the window here - they're all just growing up so too fast.

In a nutshell, that's our summer.

Danny and Chaz

It's been a heavy couple of days on the blog this week. While I know I still owe a post on Bible hermeneutics, between today being the last day of school and me trying to grade 105 final exams, it's just not going to happen until next week. I'm sorry. This is not meant as an excuse, just an explanation and plea for a raincheck; do stay tuned.

In the meantime (and to give us all an intensity break), in honor of today being it for the school year, I present Danny and Chaz (a.k.a. Frick and Frack) - two hilarious freshmen who made me laugh (usually when I didn't want them to) in New Testament class:

While I affectionately think of them as the little brothers I never wanted, they're both great guys, and we've had a fun (if somewhat ADHD) year together. Still, don't be fooled: they're hardly as cute and innocent as they look. I'll miss them this summer, but look forward to possibly having them back in Ethics next year (if they pass my exam today, that is).

Five Things of Late

1. I can't remember where I read it, but I've been thinking a lot about the idea that, with the proliferation of so many news/infotainment sites, headlines tend to be more and more alarmist in nature so as to capture (and re-capture) readership. No wonder the world feels like it's falling apart at such a frightening rate as of late.

2. Though I'll always be a baseball fan first, soccer is starting to grow on me. I've been watching Westminster's girls varsity soccer games the past couple of weeks with my 6- and 4-year-olds and the constant action has been fun for them and for me. It also helps that we've been winning.

3. The month of May is filling fast with end-of-the-school-year events, seminary graduation parties, ballet and choir recitals for the girls, and other various and sundry challenges to finishing my remaining assignments for my own classes. I've blocked the next three Saturdays in hopes of wrapping up, but it's going to be close.

4. Teaching the Eighth Commandment and pleading with my sophomores and juniors to apply God's Word to their (illegal) music downloading/sharing practices may just get me killed. To their credit, some students are really wrestling with the issue now, even publicly asking for prayer at the end of class for the desire to change their ways. Hard but encouraging.

5. It seems like I'm reading a lot but not finishing much at all. I'd list the half-read titles here, but they'll be the same in another month, so I'll spare you the details. One thing's for sure: I'm going on a fiction binge at the end of May.

Bittersweet Break

Due to either brilliant planning or pathetic procrastination, my Westminster Spring Break is turning out to be more about remembering what it's like to be a full-time student than what it's like to be a teacher with a week off. On the docket:

• Listen to seven 45-minute lectures, read five chapters, complete a study guide, and take the mid-term for my Ancient & Medieval Church History class


• Write a 5-page paper for my Children's Ministry class


• Write two CD reviews and a 10-page paper for my Music & Theology class

I'm spending today at Covenant with two main purposes in mind:

1. To get away and focus (the Catacombs are a bit too chilly and noisy for extended periods of time studying)


2. To schedule some academic advising in response to Covenant's publication of next year's class schedule (if all goes well, I may actually be able to finish my Masters degree in Theological Studies a year from now)

I'm preparing myself this morning for somewhat of a bittersweet encounter, namely going to my first seminary chapel all year. In addition to seeing lots of familiar faces and sitting through an optional mid-week chapel whose participants are actually interested (unlike the mandatory weekly high school chapels I'm used to refereeing), my friend Ronnie is preaching.

Ronnie and I started seminary in the same Beginning Greek class almost three years ago. He (along with Rob, Tom, Mitchell, Josh, Mike, and dozens of others) are graduating this May with an actual Masters of Divinity degree after 36 solid months of ridiculous class loads and more Hebrew than I ever wanted (or was able) to endure.

While I'm happy and proud of all of them for gutting it out these past three years, I confess I'm more than a little sheepish about showing up today in my part-time, four-year, non-language, theological studies kind of way. Though none of them possess a superiority complex because of our divergent seminary paths, I (like the 14-year-old I perpetually think of myself as) am able to provide enough of an inferiority complex for all of us.

Indeed, I'm that gifted.

That said, I'm looking forward to what God will teach me today - about his unconditional love, about his sovereign plan, about the community of his people. I need to learn more about these things today, as they may be the only things that get me through this week of full-time seminary student studies with hope instead of drudgery as my companion.

Things That Made Me Smile Today

Rumor has it that I'm hard to please, but it really doesn't take all that much to make me smile. To prove my point, here's what did it today (and I'm not making these up):

• My new office in the Pit of Despair (our unfinished basement) after a weekend of swapping workspaces with Megan's crafts


• Homemade whole wheat (read: colon blow) cinnamon rolls for breakfast (with pigs in blankets for lunch)


• The song "One Dozen Monkeys" on the new kids album (recommended) from the ever-quirky 80's band They Might Be Giants


• Chaz and Danny (a.k.a. Frick and Frack) calling me Mr. Starship Unicorn all 7th period (don't ask me why - I don't think they even know)


• The introductory quote in Tim Keller's new book, The Reason for God: "I find your lack of faith - disturbing. (Darth Vader)"


• My two older daughters writing letters in cursive


• My two younger daughters acting out the "Maw-wiage" scene in The Princess Bride (they also do a pretty good "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya...")

When you don't get out much, it's the little things that go a long way.

Introducing

As an unofficial ambassador for the blogosphere, let me introduce you to three new blogs (and the people behind them) worth your reading time in the future:

• My Life in Sweat Pants - a good friend from my old Navigator days, Leura is a freelance editor and terrific writer (and I say that not just because she chooses to use proper grammar and punctuation on her blog) who writes, "After 14 years at the same job, I'm now a 30-something mom of four kids who suddenly finds herself unemployed and wondering what's next." Warm and thoughtful writing.


• The Golden Dragon - if you're into the fantasy genre at all, you'll want to check out what friend and co-worker (we teach together at Westminster), L.B. Graham, is doing online. Soon to finish up his five-book Binding of the Blade fantasy series, L.B. talks about his future publishing plans, as well as shares some personal reflections on writing, faith, and life. Insightful and well-written.


• Christocentric - friend and former co-worker (we taught together at Wildwood), Matt Heckel, has just written his first of what promises to be many posts of intellectually and philosophically-challenging topics. Matt has his PhD in Reformation Studies from Concordia, so he's always good for a Luther story as well. Glad to see him blogging, and looking forward to post number two.

Anyway, if you would, pay these folks a visit and tell them Craig sent you. And, of course, if you're not subscribing to Second Drafts, let me encourage you to do so through Bloglines - it will save you tons of time, and might just change your life.*

(*results vary, depending on degree of blogaholism; check with your doctor for details)

Maybe We're Becoming a Little Too Close

Larry Hughes (on the left) is my Biblical Ethics co-teacher/mentor at Westminster, as well as the most widely-read person I've ever met. Larry speaks as easily about the Bible or ancient philosophy as the ideas and issues of our day. Best of all, he speaks in a fun Tennessee twang, and has a heart for God and people even bigger than his personal library (which is pretty big).

As much as I admire Larry and appreciate him as my Ethics mentor, I do wonder sometimes if he's having too much influence on me in general. What do you think?

Weekend Extrovert

So this weekend I spent Friday, Saturday, and Sunday afternoon with about 1,500 NavStaff in downtown St. Louis. Believe it or not, I was almost mistaken for an extrovert.

On Saturday, we had a few folks over to the house for lunch (my 4-year-old and I took the pic). Back row: Jess, Natalie (holding Amelia), Derek, Jack, Nate, Mark, and Jason. Fun and games.

The Navigators in St. Louis

It's going to be a strange mixing of worlds this weekend as The Navigators' national staff conference is in town. Over 1,200 folks from all over the Nav world are descending on St. Louis and the Millennium Hotel, and though we don't know everybody, we know a fair amount and hope to see many of them who are in town.

For those who don't know, I spent 12 years onstaff with The Navigators in Colorado Springs. Just before we left staff and moved to St. Louis in 2005, the Navs announced that they were holding their every-four-years staff conference here. At the time, 2007 seemed so far off that, apart from putting it on my calendar, I didn't think too much about it. But it's here now, and we're glad.

The staff conference holds particular significance for me as I (then 24) was part of the ten-member team back in 1995 asked to resurrect it after a 25-year hiatus. In addition to my normal staff responsibilities at Eagle Lake then, I worked for two years with the team to put things together, finally executing the plans we'd made during the last week of June at Estes Park that year (which was also one month into a full summer camp season). It was a great conference that came off without a hitch (or at least without any noticeable ones). I'm still not sure how it all got pulled off, but somehow it did.

All that to say, I probably won't crash too many sessions or workshops, but I do plan to mill around, shake a few hands, and temporarily kidnap a couple close friends and bring them home for dinner with the fam. There's part of me that's a little insecure about being at a Nav conference without being an official Navigator anymore, but I have little doubt I'll be remembered and warmly welcomed. The Navs are good folk who took good care of us when we were with them, and we were helped very much by their ministry.

Welcome Home, Moore Family

This is my friend, Mitchell, who gets back into the States today after taking his pregnant wife, Lisa, and their three small children to Uganda for most of the summer to do mission work in Kampala.

As you can perhaps tell from the picture, Mitchell is a wild hair (yes, that's magic marker all over his face, courtesy of an April babysitting session with my children gone incredibly wrong - or most likely in Mitchell's opinion, incredibly right).

As I had the picture and have been looking forward to Mitchell and the family getting back into town, I thought I'd take this opportunity to say, "Welcome home, Moore family. Welcome home." We missed you.

Fish

My sophomore year (1990) at Mizzou was quite a "friend year" for me. In addition to someone at the University randomly assigning Doug Serven (he of TwentySomeone fame) as my roommate, he or she also put us on the first floor of Wolpers Hall, two doors down from one John Gillman (pictured with me above). We've been buds ever since.

"Fish" and I have a lot in common: we both grew up on farms outside small communities; we both played and did well enough in high school sports (though neither one of us was "the star"); we both share a love for teaching and ministry (John was a biology teacher for 12 years and now pastors a small church of about 100 or so folks); we both married spouses who grew up in much larger cities (but somehow share our love for the country); and, we both can point to a distinct moment in each of our lives when we sensed God drawing us to himself, and, while we've stumbled at times in following, by God's grace, neither of us has ever looked back.

Neither one of us was or is the absolute best, fastest, or smartest in anything; basically, we're just two average Midwest boys who appreciate a clever song (especially if we can play it - we're both musical, but neither is a virtuoso) and the simple beauty of the rural life.

This weekend, as we watched our families bond through creek adventures and the occasional trip to check the chickens for eggs, both John and I marveled at what God has done and how good he has been to both of us. Though budgets have always been tight and it's been work to keep our heads above water concerning our callings, it's been a gift to know someone else about as average as each of us feels is attempting to do a similar thing.