Second Drafts

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.

U2: A Recap

Always Pain Before a Child Is Born

I've been listening to a fair amount of U2 the past couple days as part of my preparation (yes, preparation) for the upcoming concert at Busch Stadium in St. Louis. If you remember, we're planning to take the girls on Sunday, and I can't wait for their reactions to all that they will see, hear, and experience at their first-ever rock concert.

I've written before about the band and the fact that their music has served as a soundtrack for just about every major transition I've experienced. True to form, six months before we moved to Oklahoma, we bought tickets to the St. Louis show for July 17th and gave them to the girls for Christmas, not knowing until a few months later that we wouldn't be living there anymore come summer. When I took the new role, the only contingency was that we could take a week of vacation leading up to the concert. I won't say it would have been a deal-breaker...but it could have been.

As it turns out, "vacation" started Saturday, but it's not exactly the one we originally planned. Megan and the girls arrived in St. Louis as of Sunday night, but they've spent the past two days in the dentist and optometrist offices trying to get one last round of check-ups in before our insurance transfers in August.

I'm still in Oklahoma as I felt the need to be at several important meetings yesterday and today. I'll fly up early Wednesday morning to join the ladies for a couple days at the farm before spending Saturday and Sunday around a hotel pool gearing up for the show that night. We'll then drive back to OKC all day Monday (I'm looking forward to the drive, as it will be the first time we all will get to process the concert at length together).

Today, while making the drive up and down I-35, I listened to "Yahweh" from How to Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. Below is the acoustic version of the song (the album version includes the bridge and features a more rock arrangement) from the Chicago concert we were actually at in 2005 (don't make fun of Larry's one-finger string arrangement - he's a drummer, God love him):

The song is a prayer - a prayer I prayed with tears today as I wove in and out of traffic trying to get where I needed to go. It's how my prayers to God sound these days - prayers filled with painful self-awareness of my inadequacies as well as angry frustrations at my limitations. As in the chorus, the desperate cry of "Yahweh" was about all I could manage to get out while driving through Oklahoma City, and that was okay.

What's weird is it's been a great six weeks - six weeks that I would change very little about in terms of what we've done and accomplished. But six weeks does not a school build, nor a church plant. Every day has been hard, and from what I can tell, every day is going to be hard for a long time. I'm embarrassed by my impatience, but grateful for it too in that it reminds me I still expect God to do something here (and there is so very much that only He can do).

In looking through the playlists posted from the last few U2 concerts, I don't see "Yahweh" anywhere on them. Still, maybe the Lord will spark Bono to change things up and do it Sunday night, which if that happens, I will break down weeping at the gift it would be while my wife and daughters (once again) wonder what's wrong with Daddy.

And the answer is nothing...and everything - all of which God - Yahweh - cares for deeply.

 

Take these shoes - click clacking down some dead end street
Take these shoes and make them fit
Take this shirt - polyester white trash made in nowhere
Take this shirt and make it clean, clean
Take this soul - stranded in some skin and bones
Take this soul and make it sing

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Take these hands - teach them what to carry
Take these hands - don't make a fist
Take this mouth - so quick to criticize
Take this mouth - give it a kiss

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahewh, Yahweh
Still I'm waiting for the dawn

Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born
Yahweh, tell me now
Why the dark before the dawn?

Take this city - a city should be shining on a hill
Take this city if it be your will
What no man can own, no man can take
Take this heart, take this heart
Take this heart and let it break

Make Us an Offer We Can't Refuse

We're yard-saling today. We did this last year, too. The culture is, well, fascinating.

A Beautiful Season

"I love baseball.
You know it doesn't have to mean anything,
it's just beautiful to watch."
Woody Allen in Zelig

I hung up my baseball uniform today. Granted, I hung several of them up (uniform collection is one of the least glamorous parts of high school coaching), but I paused an extra moment when I came to number 20. Though I had picked it last year simply because it was the biggest jersey available (ahem), wearing it this year ironically corresponded with our JV team's final number of wins this season - the most victories for a JV baseball team in Westminster's 28-year history.

I mentioned the irony of my number to the guys in my pre-game talk last Thursday - the last game of the season and the one we needed to win to reach 20. As there are no playoffs or post-season games at the junior varsity level, total number of victories would seem all a JV team can shoot for to register its existence. But in baseball (as in most sports), record (we were 20-2 on the year) rarely captures what a season means to a coach and his players; relationship does that.

While we had our share of ups and downs, we loved one another even (and especially) when we didn't always like each other. Sure, there was plenty of competition for positions and no one wants to ride pine when his team is on the field, but the guys worked through a lot of that early in the season (sometimes with a little help from their coaches) and came to be each other's biggest fans.

Out of 22 games, no lineup was the same (Cardinals manager Tony La Russa is not the only one who can manage by "platoon"). At the JV level, our goal is to play as competitively as we can while playing as many as we can - winning games and preparing guys to be able to one day contribute at the Varsity level. In addition, JV provides the opportunity to call up some guys from our Freshman team (in only our second year, they went a very respectable 9-4 this spring) to see what various winning permutations the future might hold.

For some this season, action on the JV (or Freshman) team may have been all they saw, but they played a lot, learned a lot, and won a lot. For others, contributing at the Varsity level came sooner than later, as we played our last four games without three of our sophomores who got "called up" and are still playing as our Varsity just won districts on Wednesday for the sixth straight year.

One of our JV player's dads sent me a gracious email summing up our season this way:

"Our family appreciates the time you gave to coaching the boys the past two years. You somehow managed to get playing time for everyone, which doesn't happen much in high school baseball, and you did it without weakening the team's performance in any way.  That's an impressive accomplishment for any coach."

I received several notes like this from parents, and being the affirmation junkie that I am, appreciated every one of them. Still, the one thing that meant the most to me this season happened after our 19th win. We were playing a 4A school (Westminster is 2A in size) and the opposing team's coach had told his team that we were not any good; he did not even have enough respect for us or our program to throw an actual pitcher against us, but simply plucked an infielder and had him awkwardly pitch.

We ended up winning, 18-3. After the game and our normal post-game meeting in the outfield, the guys made a few mini-speeches and handed my assistant coach, Slade Johnson, and me a manilla envelope with 15 tickets to a Cardinals game. Their parents had chipped in on so that we could all go to a game together (which we did Wednesday night after having the guys over for grilled hot dogs and wiffle ball - see below).

After handing over the tickets (and with even bigger "ah, shucks" smiles than before), the guys made a few more mini-speeches about my leaving for Oklahoma and presented me with an authentic Rawlings bat with my name engraved in the barrel and their signatures scrawled on the bat head. Marveling at both the beauty and the meaning of the piece of wood I held in my hands, I nearly cried at the classy thoughtfulness of it.

The next day, we won our twentieth and final game. As I was walking off the field after shaking hands with the other team, the Lord gave me an idea for our post-game meeting. Since I had received a bat from the guys the day before, I thought it might be a good idea to rightly set up my successor. Grabbing my coach's fungo bat, I made my own mini-speech and presented it to Slade, who will be overseeing and coaching the JV and Freshman teams next year. He was thrilled (notice Lil' Blue in his hand below).

After the meeting, as Slade and I were walking back to the dugout, the guys presented their final gift to me: my very first water cooler shower. Strangely (and after the initial cold shock), I was honored by this just as much as I was by the bat the day before. Why? Because my players felt comfortable and secure enough in their relationship with their coach to have some fun with me. The day before they had honored me with their respect; now they honored me with their trust. I don't know if they caught it or not, but it was a beautiful illustration of how we are to walk with and enjoy our relationship with God.

It was a special season - one that I will take with me to Oklahoma and hold onto for years to come. I told the guys that, if they work hard and commit themselves to each other in doing so, I believe they have a great chance of one day winning a state championship. I also told them that, if and when they make it that far, I will be catching a plane back to St. Louis to be there. I think they believe they can do it. I think they believe I will, too.

So, for all you baseball fans out there, there's your post-season wrap-up. Thanks to my players, their parents, my fellow coaches, and the Lord God who gave us baseball. The only season that can top this one is still to come...and will play on through eternity. Look for me: I'll be the one in the coach's box down the third base line...

(Thanks to Dale Froeschner and Megan for the photos. For Megan's thoughts, click here.)

The Boys (and Girls) of Summer

It probably has something to do with living in St. Louis, but I always find myself writing a post on the occasion of Major League Baseball's opening day. As usual, humor me.

Whether or not she meant for the opportunity to coincide, Megan scheduled a tour (via Groupon) this past Sunday afternoon of Busch Stadium III. It had just snowed the day before and there were at least a dozen people on the field trying to dry things up; otherwise, we and the 20 other people on the tour pretty much had the place to ourselves.

As you may know, St. Louis is a great baseball city with the second-most World Series championships to its credit (10; only the New York Yankees have more at 27). Somewhat unrelated (but interesting nevertheless), we've also had a fair number of official logos during this time (Slugger Bird - fourth from the left - was always a favorite of mine).

The history is rich, and some of it is represented at different locations throughout the stadium: vintage uniforms encased with pennants and other timeless memorabilia; a tribute to former Cardinals radio announcer, Jack Buck; various World Series programs and trophies scattered here and there.

The Redbirds aren't the only ones who open their season this week; Westminster's baseball season started for us as well. This is my second year coaching the junior varsity/freshmen at WCA and I have an unbelievably talented group of guys who really love the game. It's also a treat to be part of a coaching staff under head coach Rich Van Gilst (now in his 28th season) and with pitching coach Andy Benes, former Cardinals pitcher who spent 14 years in the big leagues.

Last week, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ranked WCA's varsity team number one for small schools in St. Louis. My part in that (along with stellar assistant coaches Slade Johnson and Micah Gall, two guys in their twenties who were both solid players in high school and college) is to build guys into varsity-level players during their freshmen and sophomore years. While we're certainly not the only ones investing in their baseball skills (many of our guys play baseball year-round for other coaches), it's fun to see "our boys" do well when they get the chance to play up.

For instance, two days ago, Ben Lovell, my top pitcher from last year as a freshman, started his first varsity game as a sophomore, going six innings and getting the win against one of the big Parkway public schools (check out his post-game interview). Last night, due to some injuries with some of our seniors, Mark McFarland, another sophomore, got "called up" to do some varsity relief pitching and threw two innings and also got the win. Today, a third sophomore, Davis Vanderslice, is making his first varsity start, and I'm confident he'll do well, too.

Sure, I hate to lose the guys from the junior varsity team, but it's fun to both help prepare and celebrate with them before and after their "big break." It's also fun to "call up" a few freshmen to help out on the junior varsity level in replacement (having lost two of my sophomore starters, I'm starting two freshmen pitchers in games later this week). Finally, it's very enjoyable to win games with guys at the junior varsity level (we won our first game 7-0 by playing really good defensive against another of the big Parkway schools).

Tonight, after our JV and Freshman games were canceled due to rain (the joys of playing baseball in March in the Midwest), I came home and played catch with my two youngest, both of whom are learning to love baseball as much as their two older sisters. It's amazing how much they've improved in their catching and throwing since last year, all from simply growing one year older. We laughed, we talked, we threw, we caught. It was fun.

At whatever level - half-pint, freshman, junior varsity, varsity, the Majors - baseball is the same great game that gets the entire city of St. Louis excited when the boys (and girls) of summer show up and start playing in the spring. It's as perfect a game as there is, and I'm glad to relive my love for it as a former pitcher/player and now as a coach.

Play ball! And go Redbirds!

(For more baseball thoughts over the years, click here, here, here, here, and here.)

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.

Coming to St. Louis in 2011

In case you missed it, the website I've been working on for musician/author Michael Card's Biblical Imagination Series just went live this weekend. I used Clover Sites to create it and am impressed (still) with how easy and well-thought-out their content management system is (I've worked with plenty of lousy ones in the past and this was a dream).

For those in St. Louis, we're bringing the conference to Chesterfield Presbyterian Church all day on Saturday, January 15th, with Mike doing a concert on Sunday the 16th. The cost is only $58 for the conference AND concert ($78 if you want Mike's new book and album coming out next year as well - see site for details), and I can personally vouch for the quality of the experience (though the emcee/education guy's a little suspect).

Whether you've read the Bible for years or are just starting out in the Scriptures, this one-day conference would be well worth your investment in cultivating greater biblical literacy and love for God and His Word. Hope to see you there (and please help spread the word about the new Biblical Imagination website and Facebook community - thanks).

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...

Hell on The Hill

A month or so ago, Megan and I had dinner at an Italian restaurant on The Hill. We parked in front of this large corner lot full of beautiful green grass with a sign in its center across the street. Maybe I grew up loving one too many of Gary Larson's Far Side cartoons, but surely this is what Hell is and will be like (among other awful and unspeakable things).

On the Yard Sale

So we had a yard sale this past Saturday. Apart from the 95-degree temperature and the 100% humidity, it was good: we got rid of some stuff, made some money, and had a very good reason at the end of the day to collectively hit the sack at 9:30 p.m.

Personally, yard sales are too intimate an experience for me to really enjoy; there's just something awkward about strangers publicly evaluating what you once thought you wanted. Maybe I just felt self-conscious about all the old Stephen King novels I was getting rid of (would you want to know that YOUR neighbor has read a majority of the man's books?), but the whole process seems a huge invasion of privacy.

As I was enduring the invasion, I took some mental notes on the variety of yard-salers we encountered during the day. I don't pretend that this list is exhaustive (and feel free to add your own set of usual suspects in the comments below), but generally speaking, here's who I did business with during our particular sale on Saturday:

The Early Bird: This person pays no attention to any printed given times as to when the yard sale officially begins; if the sign says 8 a.m., then 7:30 it is. Thankfully, she doesn't talk much and rarely gets offended if and when you have to ask her to move so you can set up another table of items you're trying to sell, so it's usually best to just let this one be.

The Snob: This person parks right in front of and as close as possible to your yard, gets out of her still-running car with her nose stuck up in the air to pick up your sale's "scent," and surveys what she already knows you have - nothing she would ever want. Having convinced herself of this truth, she gets back in the car and drives off, grateful once again that she did not waste her time on your junk (and, honestly, good riddance).

The Critic: This person is a distant cousin to The Snob, the difference being that he actually gets out of the car to look through your stuff. Unfortunately, while The Snob communicates her disdain for your offerings from a driving-off distance, The Critic chooses to verbalize his disgust on-site instead, particularly if he feels you have overpriced anything (and especially if he secretly wants to buy it).

The Cheapskate: This person looks through everything - and I mean everything - you have in your yard, taking his time to muse over what its value must have been to you at some point and wondering what must have happened that you would put it up for sale now. Having so cheaply entertained himself with various and sundry scenarios and plots, he finally picks one item priced at fifty cents and asks if you would take forty for it (after all, one's man's memories are another man's bargains).

The Haggler: While often confused with The Cheapskate, The Haggler is actually willing to spend money for what she wants...so long as the sale price is below the amount that's currently listed. Hers is not a campaign motivated by finances but by victory, as every piece she has ever purchased at a yard sale comes with a complete oral tradition of how much it was, how much she ended up talking the owner down, and why the difference between the two prices makes her superior to the rest of humanity.

The Scanner: This person is usually drinking Starbucks and shows up with his own hand-held bar code scanner, which he uses to check resell value on anything with a bar code. Never mind what the item actually is or what the book in his hand might be about, all this guy cares about is what it's currently going for on Ebay or Amazon, as this will determine his purchase decision. This was a new one for me.

The Road Trip: This person is not really a person but multiple persons all crammed into one vehicle out hitting yard sales en masse. The goal (I assume) is to have fun going to yard sales together (which seems incredibly flawed thinking in itself); the reality is that with so many people in the car, there's no room for what one might want to buy, especially if it's a bigger item. Tip: Be sure to get their money before you promise to hold something for them while they go and get another vehicle (no sense losing a possible sale if they happen to get in an accident joy-riding).

The Buzzard: This person shows up toward the end of the sale and, since she missed all your good stuff, somehow feels entitled to a much lower price than the one listed before she will even think about buying your pathetic leftovers. Sadly, though you'd like to ask her as a matter of principle where she gets off imposing her discount assumption on you, you know she has you, as you really don't want to haul your stuff back in the house; thus, you end up (grudgingly) caving to her demands.

I'm sure there were plenty of others I could list if I really wanted to get mean, but I'll stop for now (I do wonder if different geographic areas of the country sport different yard-saler species or if they're just variations of the ones above). Of course, there were plenty of really nice people - friends, neighbors, people we'd never met before - who stopped by as well, bought some lemonade or stuff, and just talked a while, which was nice.

All in all, it was a good day and I'm glad we did it, though as with every yard sale, I'm always glad when it's over and am in no hurry to do one again anytime soon.

Concert Review: Jewel

Thanks to Megan's nifty networking, we enjoyed free tickets/backstage passes to see Jewel when she came through town last weekend. We were big fans when she first came out 12 years ago or so, but hadn't really kept up with her music that much since (to our loss). Wow. What a performer.

The concert was at The Sheldon, which was a nice venue - pretty simple and basic - that allowed Jewel's storytelling and songwriting to nicely color the evening. Her new stuff was as good as anything she's done, and even though she's shown up on the country charts in recent days, she's ever the singer/songwriter who feels most at home with a guitar, a mic, and a crowd.

Here's a little video montage of the evening Megan put together, along with a few thoughts after the show from me. My performance is hardly as animated as Jewel's as we were standing in the lobby after the show and I felt a little self-conscious talking to the camera with everyone milling around, but you get what you pay for.

I'd write more, but since it's almost a week since the show, here's a review that does a nice job summing up my own musical observations. Nice evening all around.

Lawn Mower Civics

Mowing the yard is one of my favorite ways to celebrate the Memorial Day weekend. I suppose caring for the tiny piece of land I own is my noble attempt at recognizing the American traditions of honoring soldiers' sacrifices and observing summer's arrival.

Perhaps like many, I don't always think about the freedoms we Americans enjoy, which is why Memorial Day (and what we do on Memorial Day) is important. As we've done in the past, we went to Jefferson Barracks today (here are some pics):

 

 

Mowing on Saturday and attending the Memorial Day service today got me thinking about ability - specifically, all I am able to do in the U.S. because I happen to live legally within her borders and laws. Here are just a few abilities I have as a U.S. citizen not necessarily guaranteed elsewhere in the world:

I'm able to have four children (all girls). In China, I could only have one child (and the government would want that one to be a boy, so any girls might get aborted).

I'm able to keep a blog or a write a new book without having to submit either to a censor for approval. In North Korea, neither is really an option (Internet and independent ideas don't jive too well with totalitarian government regimes).

I'm able to freely live and believe according to the Christian Scriptures. While ours is not (nor ever has been) a "Christian" nation, I rejoice at being able to live freely as a Christian within our nation (try testing day-to-day religious diversity in, oh, say, Iran or Saudi Arabia and see where and what that gets you).

Now, lest you think this is just a nice patriotic post on freedom (I've tried those a few times before - 1, 2, 3, 4 - but they never seem to end up too warm and fuzzy), let me talk honestly about some personal inabilities that I wrestle with in our fair democracy (for those of you with USA bumper stickers and T-shirts, you might want to stop reading now):

I'm unable to trust elected political leaders. It doesn't matter the level - national, state, local - nor the branch - executive, legislative, judicial - nor the political affiliation - Democrat, Republican, or Independent - politicians do not have the luxury of asking for my trust and assuming they have it. I am sick of the lack of integrity, of the abuse of power, of the CYA spin, and of the arrogance to think I do not understand enough to know what's really going on. As far as I'm concerned, politicians can save the rhetoric for their consciences (if they still have any left); their words no longer affect me.

I'm unable to trust government workers. Call it guilt by association, but I'm tired of hearing about those who work for a government agency who seem all too content to siphon off their part of my taxes with little to no thought as to for whom they're really working (example). I'm not saying there isn't a place for public service (and I'm not saying every government worker is like this), but there is a philosophical difference between earning a living and spending an apportionment, and most long-term government leaders and workers don't understand it.

I'm unable to trust the media as a true Fourth Estate. It's not as if I did before, but the more I read or watch supposed "trusted" news sources, the more the agendas (liberal, conservative, etc.) spill over. One can blame the Internet, I suppose, for severely crippling the budgets of most newspapers and magazines, but someone needs to explain to our media outlets that their job is not to sell stories but to tell them. I'm done with opinion columnists masquerading as reporters (are you listening, Newsweek?) and find myself incredibly skeptical of the phrase "Here's what's making news" when it should really be "Here's what WE'RE making news."

I'm unable to trust the American Dream. This has never been much of a motivator nor temptation for me, but if it were, it's become even less so in recent recession years. While cries of socialism/communism have found their way into the public conversation of late, pure laissez-faire capitalism is not the answer either. If the past ten years have taught us anything, I would hope it would be that life and meaning are bigger than an economic system, regardless of which system it is.

Jane Jacobs, in her 2005 book, Dark Age Ahead, argued that "we're stumbling into the same cultural decline that befell the Roman Empire." One of her overarching premises was that mass amnesia - not only forgetting something but forgetting that you have forgotten it - is the main cause of a Dark Age. "When the abyss of lost memory by a people becomes too deep and too old," she wrote, "attempts to plumb it are futile."

Jacobs went on to identify five pillars of society we need and have come to depend on:

• community and family
• higher education
• the effective practice of science and science-based technology
• taxes and governmental powers directly in touch with needs and possibilities
• accountability by the learned professions

She concluded that we in America "are dangerously close to the brink of lost memory and cultural uselessness" concerning these. I concur: We are suffering from mass amnesia these days about most things having to do with taxes, governmental powers, and accountability in the economic, scientific, technological, and (sadly) even religious sectors of our society. We have forgotten that we have forgotten. Memorial Day calls us to remember; interestingly, Deuteronomy does, too (fourteen times, as a matter of fact).

We in America are and always have been a country of ability, but are there others who sense a growing tide of inability washing away the sands of strength from our U.S. shores (at least the ones not covered in oil - thank you, BP)? Care to add to either list (ability or inability), or offer something you think we've forgotten that we've forgotten? I'd welcome your thoughts.

Until then, I may go mow some more...

Summer 2010 Preview, Etc.

Sitting here on a Sunday night listening to some Lucinda Williams and doing a little writing. It's been a while since I've done a summary post of sorts, so since Megan and the girls are out of town and we're collectively an entire season behind to really make the LOST finale worth watching, here are a few things I've been thinking about and/or looking forward to:

School: This week is finals week, so I'll be spending most of my time grading. The good news is, unlike the past three years when I was evaluating projects and papers, I'm going into finals week with nothing other than finals to grade, so that should make for a little less consuming week in general.

In other school news, I've signed on for another year at Westminster, but my role is changing a bit as I'll be leaving the world of freshmen New Testament behind for fourth section of sophomore Ethics and one section of senior Worldviews next year. I'm glad for the transition all around.

One last note on the school front (this time the homeschool front), we're going to be entering a new stage of education here at home. This fall, our two oldest girls will be full-time students at Central Christian School in Clayton, while Megan continues leading the Classical Conversations group and homeschools our younger two (here are details from Megan's perspective).

Summer: In addition to writing (more on that below), my primary goal in June is to hang out with the little ladies, read some books, and get a few projects done around here. In addition, I'll help coach our Westminster summer baseball team for a week in June, as well as get trained on some new school information software, as I've been asked to be a mentor teacher to the rest of the staff this fall.

July ups the ante considerably in terms of travel, as we're planning a family trip to Colorado Springs, as the girls are now old enough (somehow) to attend The Navigators' camping programs (Eagle Lake and Eagle's Nest) we helped lead back in the day. I'll try to see as many folks as I can in a few days' time before I jump on a plane from Denver to Portland for my third year as part of Westminster's Summer Seminar. This time, I'll be investing ten days with 25 soon-to-be seniors in Washington state instead of South Dakota, after which I'll fly back to Colorado and then we'll all drive back to Missouri.

August sees staff reporting as earlier as the week of August 9th, but I'll have a few publishing projects to edit and design from the Washington trip, as well as a fair amount of prep work to finalize for my new Worldviews class. Orientation starts the 12th and the first day of class is the 16th.

Studying: Despite baseball high-jacking my time and energy, I've been reading in a couple areas of interest this spring, not the least of which has been the study of the end times, or eschatology. N.T. Wright's book, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, has been helpful, as has revisiting my notes from seminary (particularly Dr. Dan Doriani's notes from his Epistles and Revelation class). Of the three years I've taught Revelation to my freshmen New Testament classes, I feel like I've done the best job this year.

I'm also finishing up a couple books on education, namely John Dewey and the Decline of American Education by Henry T. Edmondson III, Curriculum 21 edited by Heidi Hayes-Jacobs, and The Secret of TSL by William Ouchi. It seems I've been reading these for a while (and I have), but there's been some good content that's come as a result.

Looking ahead, I have some Worldviews reading to do this summer, including (Re)Thinking Worldview by J. Mark Bertrand; The Compact Guide to World Religions edited by Dean C. Halverson (ed.); The Journey by Peter Kreeft; Total Truth by Nancy Pearcey; and The Universe Next Door by James W. Sire. Should be fun.

Writing: Now that my second book, Learning Education: Essays & Ideas from My First Three Years of Teaching, is finished, I'm turning back to finishing the ThirtySomewhere manuscript this summer. I'm still looking for a formal publisher to get behind it, but now that I've experimented with the self-publishing gig a bit (and am still experimenting), I may go with what I've got at some point this fall and see what happens. We'll see.

I plan to continue blogging here, though I really wonder how much people are interested in anything longer than 140 Twitter characters these days. Speaking of which, I've enjoyed Twitter enough to keep using it, but there again I just have no way of really knowing how far the medium's actual reach is so as to invest more time in it. Oh well.

Guess that's it for now. There's more, but this is long enough. I'll try to post a few more thoughts later on this week (nothing brings out literary creativity like the desire to avoid grading). Have a good one.

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.

Out Standing in My Field

My first year as a junior varsity baseball coach has officially come to a close. We finished 13-8 - a good season, especially after starting 0-4 in early April. We had a great mid-season run in which we won 12 of 13 games, and we could/should have won four of the seven games we lost, as they were all 1-2 run games.

The three things I preached all season were the importance of attitude (heart), ability (hands), and adaptability (head). Because of the nature of JV baseball - games bumped, umpire no-shows, guys transitioning from varsity - the adaptability point became a favorite joke for the team (as well as our only hope of making it through with our sanity).

A personal highlight was working with JV assistant coach, Slade Johnson. Slade played four years at WCA before playing ball at Wheaton College, and he's starting down the path I just finished - taking classes at Covenant while beginning his teaching career at WCA this coming fall. He brought energy and experience to our team, and we co-coached our way through the year pretty much on the same page the whole way through.

We had some Field of Dreams moments as well as some scenes straight out of The Bad News Bears. We had a variety of personalities on the team and some players with multiple personalities on the field. We got better as the season went on and learned to play the game with intensity and pride. We made mental errors that led to physical ones we had to shake off, get over, and move past. Parents were supportive and got behind us, and Megan and the girls were our biggest fans.

In addition to trying to help the guys learn the fundamentals of baseball, we had plenty of opportunities to help them learn some fundamentals of life; sports - especially team sports - are so good for this. Some things I heard myself say repeatedly this season:

• Practice doesn't make perfect; perfect practice makes perfect.
• The only thing you can control when bad breaks happen is how you respond.
• Sometimes you have to deal with bad or unfair calls, so start now.
• It's only the first inning; relax.
• Respecting those on your team can sometimes be hard, but it is not optional.
• Don't make excuses; take responsibility.
• There's nothing you can do about it; it's not your fault.
• Let me do the coaching; you do the playing.
• Win humbly; lose graciously.
• Play the game and have some fun.

While we had a few injuries and the occasional sore arm, nothing was paralyzing or fatal, which is not insignificant when one considers the number of baseballs flying around practice, warm-ups, and games during the course of a season. I'm sure we had a few bruised egos here and there (cursing, throwing equipment in frustration, or showing up late without reason guarantees time riding pine), but those heal eventually and "build character" as my father used to say about all things hard.

As much as I could write about the season, this picture with Mark sums up what WCA JV baseball is all about - smiles, smudged eye black, and dirt on the uniform. Love it.

(Special thanks to George Sneed and David McFarland for a season of great pictures.)

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

In the past week, I've coached five baseball games, the last of which counts almost for two as it went 12 innings (high school games are seven innings). The good news: we won every game (even the 12-inning one); the other news: by the end of the week (or really by Wednesday) I was completely exhausted.

When I got home Friday night after school, a seminary class, and a reunion dinner with my family to reintroduce myself as husband/father, I was so tired that I was in bed and asleep by 7:30...that is, until Megan came to bed at 11:30, which is when I woke up and couldn't go back to bed. I knew I was still wiped out, but I could not for the life of me fall back asleep. And now it's early morning. Nuts.

I remember taking a psychology class my sophomore year in college and reading about sleep deprivation experiments done on mice. Somehow, before taking that class, I had honestly believed that one's need for sleep was simply mind over matter; we didn't really need to sleep, but it was a good idea to do so anyway. I'm not kidding: I honestly thought this (in the words of Bugs Bunny, "What a maroon.")

Then I read about experiments in which researchers filled an aquarium with four inches of water and placed a long triangle-shaped column the length of the aquarium floor. The edge of the triangle jutted up out of the water by an inch or so, and the mice would perch themselves on the edge so as not to fall in and get wet. However, when the mice fell asleep, their grip on the edge relaxed, they fell off, woke up, and scrambled back onto the edge, newly awakened but increasingly sleep-deprived. This went on for days and weeks until they finally died from sheer exhaustion.

Maybe it's my farm background, but I've never been a real night owl; even in college, I was usually in bed by 9:30 and up before everyone else in the dorm. This all changed 8-10 years ago in Colorado, as I started getting up in the middle of the night multiple times - sometimes because of crying kids, but often because I just kept waking up and couldn't go back to sleep. I began to notice that I didn't dream anymore, and I needed naps more than I used to because I was just so tired all the time. I also snored, which along with my constant getting in and out of bed, kept Megan up at night.

This sleep pattern continued when we moved to St. Louis five years ago, but it didn't make sense because we were through the crying-kids-at-night stage, yet I was still waking (and getting) up. Studying in seminary became especially difficult as I couldn't read anything even early in the evening without falling asleep 20 minutes later. Then, when I started teaching full-time in addition to everything else, I would come home from school and have to lay down for a good hour, as I was so wiped out from the day.

At Megan's request, I finally did a sleep study at St. Luke's Sleep Medicine and Research Center and found out that I woke myself up approximately 100 times a night due to sleep apnea. Apparently, I have very narrow nasal passages that hinder my breathing and keep my brain from dropping into REM sleep because it's too busy making sure I don't stop breathing altogether by causing me to gasp for more air. Yet because I had been kind of asleep, I never really noticed (though Megan did, especially the gasping part).

For the past couple of years now, I have been sleeping with a mask that's connected to a ventilator of sorts and pushes air through my nasal passages to keep them from collapsing during the night. The mask took some getting used to (I'm a tummy sleeper, so I've had to learn to sleep more on my side), but the change has been remarkable: I sleep harder, I rarely wake up enough to get up in the middle of the night, and best of all, the dreams are back and that really makes me happy (I have cool dreams).

Except last night, when there were no dreams because there was no sleep. I was afraid this might happen going to bed so early, but I had little choice - my body just wouldn't stay up any longer. So, I'm a little tired this morning, but as this is my last clear Saturday to work on my seminary capstone project, I need to resist the urge to try to go back to bed. Thankfully, I have four alarm clocks with legs who will do the trick when they get up pretty soon, but for now, I'm glad a night like last night is the exception and not the rule anymore.

(Note: I'm not paid to endorse sleep studies, but if you're constantly tired, give some thought to whether it could be because of poor sleep. As was true in my case, you may not know what you don't know.)

Concert Review: Jason Aldean

And now for something completely different...

Megan somehow scored free backstage passes, a private "concert"/photo op (with eats and drinks), and free tickets to the Jason Aldean concert at the Family Arena in St. Charles Saturday night. I don't know how she finds this stuff, but I've learned over the years not to ask too many questions so as to not attach myself as an accomplice in whatever illegal activities she may engage in for a cheap date night. But I digress...

Let's be clear: while I appreciate the lyrical cleverness of country music, I'm not that big a fan of the musicality of the genre. Still, a free concert's a free concert, and since "She's Country" at heart, Megan and I went and enjoyed the gig. Jake Owen ("one of People magazine's sexiest men in country music" - oh boy) was the opening act, but everyone was clearly there for Aldean.

Rather than write a detailed review that no one may particularly care to read, I thought I'd record a video blog (vlog) to pseudo-capture the evening. What follows are my hardly technical, barely coherent, and honestly raw thoughts on the show.

Thanks to Megan for her filming/editing job, as well as for treating me to more culture than one man should be allowed to experience in a night.

This Just In

We interrupt this discussion to bring you Megan's latest post - on baseball. Hints of spring, familiarity of home, America's pastime done on the cheap...I'm in love all over again.

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.)

Leading Off

"Progress always involves risks. You can't steal second base and keep your foot on first." Frederick B. Wilcox

I'm about to enter new territory this spring. No, I've not been offered a new teaching position anywhere, nor have I yet to receive a multi-book publishing deal. No, I have not decided to try to finish our attic by myself (God have mercy), nor have I come to the attention of anyone for anything in particular of late.

My new territory? I'm the new junior varsity baseball coach at Westminster...in St. Louis...home of the Cardinals...and supposedly the most intelligent fans in baseball.

Gulp.

Baseball at the high school level in St. Louis is quite the deal, but not as I initially imagined. When I played high school ball back in the day (pitcher, infield) in rural Illinois, there was little overlap of the seasons and most of us played three of them (fall and spring baseball, basketball in the winter). These days in metropolitan St. Louis, kids play two sports in the same season (right now it's basketball at school and baseball or soccer as part of a "select league" run by former pro/semi-pro/college athletes) and all summer long (again, in these "select leagues").

While I've not had any first-hand experience with these "select teams" just yet (some examples: Gamers, Pirates), I've listened a bit and have been able to piece together a few things about them: they're fairly competitive, incredibly time-intensive, way expensive ($2,500+ for over 100 hours of instruction), and supposedly the best shot a kid has to get recruited/drafted to play college or pro ball, as coaches and scouts tend to prefer this "one-stop-shopping" to watching prep games that might only feature one all-star.

Of course, hearing the boys talk about the possibilities is one thing; listening to parents dream about them is another - in many ways, the kids are more realistic than the adults in evaluating themselves and their chances to make it past high school ball. As I've yet to see many of them in action (we've had three days' worth of optional "open gyms" for individual tee work and soft-toss, but the official start of the season isn't until March 1st), it will be interesting to see who's more accurate - the kids or the parents.

As Monday is MLK Day and schools are out, Westminster's varsity baseball coach and I are attending the I-70 Clinic, an annual gathering of high school and college baseball coaches from around the Midwest held at Greenville College and hosted by their baseball team. I have no idea what to expect, but I'm looking forward to going and seeing what I can learn about coaching high schoolers in a game I've played and always loved. I'm also hoping to pick up some tips on coaching amateur baseball in a professional baseball town.

Play ball.

My Counsel for Mark McGwire

I suppose you can call it "news" if you want, but is it really any surprise to hear from Mark McGwire himself that the former Cardinals first baseman/Major League Baseball single season home run king used steroids? Let's be honest: this doesn't exactly rank up there with "man bites dog."

Some of my students have asked, from an ethical perspective, what should happen to McGwire? Should he still be included on the home run list(s)? Should he still be considered for the Hall of Fame (he's been on the ballot for the past four years)? Should he still be the batting coach for the Cardinals this year?

Here's what I think: If McGwire really wants to do what is right and honorable, he will HIMSELF 1) request to be removed from the home run list(s); 2) request to be excluded permanently from Hall of Fame consideration; and 3) vow to do his very best to ensure that none of the Cardinals he coaches this year are juicing. Only then will he have any credibility in baseball, as well as any hope of leaving a legacy redeemed from his past.

Maybe - just maybe - others might follow McGwire's lead, with baseball being the better for it. I'm not naive and doubt many (if any) would, but I would sure think a whole lot more of McGwire as a person and, yes, even as a baseball player who played hard, made some mistakes, but had the character - finally - to deal with them honestly.

Kids (and Parents) These Days

Megan and I had a memorable evening Friday night that got us talking about some things that, well, we're not sure we're excited to be talking about. Maybe we're showing our age or our upbringing, but last night was an introspective evening for us in a lot of ways.

The cause of this introspection was Westminster's Christmas Banquet - a formal, end-of-semester dinner for which we were asked last-minute to serve as chaperones. Being the cheapskates we are, we were happy to get gussied up for four hours with 500 of our closest high school-age friends - the food at the Airport Hilton was decent, the service was good, and it was a nice way to officially kick off Christmas Break (even though I've STILL got grading to do this weekend to meet the Monday morning deadline).

Our first moment of introspection came as we dropped our four girls off at our pastor's house for the evening. Our daughters and their daughters (four also) are all roughly the same ages and absolutely love each other, so that wasn't the issue; what was different was Andrew and Lisa also had a Christmas party Friday evening, so the eight little ladies were going to be on their own for the night. As their oldest is 12 and our oldest is ten days from being 11, we were okay with this, but it was a bit surreal leaving the girls without adult supervision for four hours. It seemed we'd crossed a threshold of sorts, so we talked about it for the 15-minute drive to the hotel and decided that, indeed, we had.

When we showed up (early) for the banquet, we found our seats (in back), so we sat and talked about what we might expect this evening. Megan doesn't know many of my students as their paths don't really cross, so the evening was going to be a parade of nameless high schoolers for her; I, on the other hand, knew probably half of the students by name from class or the hallways, and was excited to see them in a different light, one which might give a hint into who they are and are becoming outside of my classroom.

Unfortunately, what I got was an eyeful of how little parents seem to care about their kids (especially their daughters).

With guys in tuxedos and girls in dresses, we expected to see a fair amount of awkwardness as the students adjusted to their fancy duds; what we didn't expect was the ridiculous amounts of make-up, skin, and cleavage we were bombarded with, nor the (short) leather skirts and (tall) stiletto heels that came with them. I couldn't count the number of times I saw girls having to pull up the tight tops of their low strapless dresses in an honest effort to keep themselves from walking right out of them.

The guys were awkward in their own way (one freshman actually wore his cumberbund up around his ribs all night and looked like a mover in one of those support belts to aid his bad back), but you can't tell me they didn't enjoy just sitting back and taking in everything that was about to fall out right before their eyes. I've never seen these guys smile as much as they did last night.

At the risk of sounding like a puritanical prude, the question that kept coming to my mind was "Where are the parents?" Oh, I forgot: they were busy planning the "after-party," the non-WCA-sponsored dance at another hotel where, from reports I always get from the kids the week after such events, is where the real party happens.

Apparently, in addition to providing the DJ and dance floor, these parents "supervise" the opportunity for high school students to "grind" on one another to their hearts' (among other bodily organs') content. I can't count the number of students who've asked me over the past three years if grinding is wrong - they bring it up every time we study (get this) the seventh commandment prohibiting adultery. When I tell them that, yes, grinding is wrong because it's basically "sex with clothes on," you wouldn't believe the pushback I get. You'd think I had accused Bill Clinton of having sex with Monica Lewinsky or something.

This - all this - made up the discussion Megan and I had on the drive back to pick up the girls. If we enroll the girls at WCA (or any school), do they accept a boy's invitation to be his date at a banquet. If they want to, sure, so long as she's dressed appropriately (that is, wearing clothes) and simply going to enjoy the evening with a friend who happens to be male. Do we let them go to "after parties"? A trickier question, but one we will hopefully attempt to answer with them by talking about all the realities in play. Decisions like these come down to clued-in parent involvement - both now and (for us, at least, before) - and I'd sure like to see more of this informed kind at WCA.

Granted, not every WCA student nor every WCA parent is suspect in this, and I could name plenty of students who were appropriately dressed at the banquet who probably didn't attend the after-party due to parental intervention. But as a current high school teacher and future high school parent, let me encourage anyone with kids to re-consider the fact that no one's going to parent your kids for you; frankly, God didn't give us the option when he gave them to us. Hear the words of Deuteronomy 6:5-7:

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise."

In other words, we are to parent according to our love for God and the words of his Scripture, and we are to parent as we (and they) go. There are no breaks; it's 24-7, baby, and we will be held accountable for every decision we make (or don't make) in training up our children in the way they should go. Might I humbly suggest that public cleavage and grinding have no place in this biblical equation? God help us all.

'Tis the Season...

...when Megan bakes cookies and leaves them around for me to pretend to ignore. It's also when we put up a tree and clutter it (and the house) with all things Christmas holiday. Ah, the sights, sounds, smells, and stuff of the season.

But I digress. Lots going on this week. Here's a rundown:

• The two-year hostage situation of St. Louis' main east/west artery has ended, as I-64/40 is open again. If all goes according to plan, I should be able to cut 10 minutes off my once-25-minute commute to/from school and seminary, which is exciting. All in all, the process wasn't that bad, but I wouldn't want to do it again anytime soon.
• I'm finishing up the fourth and fifth commandments with my Ethics students, as well as the book of Matthew with my New Testament kids this week. Finals are next week, so I've got a few tests to write and more than a few papers and assignments to grade. Glad to be two weeks away from Christmas break.
• This week is a big one in terms of finishing my seminary studies for the semester. I have an hour-long group project presentation on Monday, a paper due on Wednesday, and two finals to take by Sunday and then I'm down to my final semester at Covenant (and probably forever, unless some university wants to give me a full-ride to work on a Ph.D.). It will feel really good to finally be finished, both in a week and in five months.
• Megan and I are turning in our collective resignation letter to Nick at the Covenant bookstore, with our last day being December 30th (Nick's actually known about it for months, so it's not that big a deal). It was a good year-and-a-half at my first real retail experience, but I've got to make room to coach JV baseball in the spring, so something had to go.
• I'm planning to post my 2009 booklist in another week, so check back soon if you're still looking for readable gift ideas. I was initially disappointed in my list this year, but at second glance it's not that bad (though I definitely didn't read as much fiction as I have in the past). Look for it in another few days.
• Speaking of books as gifts, TwentySomeone wraps as well at Christmas as at graduation time (just wanted to let you know in case you're still looking for a present for a hard-to-buy-for twentysomething in your life).
• And speaking of Christmas, in addition to the obligatory family roadtrips/celebrations, we're planning to paint another room (dining) over the holidays and get some time hanging out here at home. We're also looking forward to seeing the movie Up in the Air with George Clooney, as parts were filmed in St. Louis (and some of those parts right here in our little Maplewood community).

Guess that's about it. If you're in town or passing through over the holidays, come on by - being the introverts that we are, we might not answer the door, but you'll enjoy the trip.

City of God or Country of God?

Maybe I've read too many Wendell Berry books, but it's taken some time for me - a country boy - to come around to the thought of the city being a cherished part of the Christian mission. Indeed, I get the concept of the biblical narrative taking us from the Garden (Genesis) to the City (Revelation), and it does seem God spends an awful lot of time in the Scriptures interacting with ancient cities and their inhabitants, but it's only been since moving to a big city myself that my heart has warmed to the idea.

Growing up six miles outside a town of 1,200 (Griggsville, IL - "Purple Martin Capital of the Nation") two hours north of the STL, my big city experiences were few and far between. When I did visit St. Louis or Chicago (which my family rarely did), or even when I traveled overseas at the age of 16 to major cities like London, Paris, or Munich, I was rarely scared by them, but I was not all that enamored, either. While I enjoyed the idea of being there, the cities all felt too touristy to me (granted, a tourist), and I just couldn't figure out who or how one enjoyed living in a place so overrun by millions of non-residents.

This theme continued when I moved west. Colorado Springs - as beautiful as it can be - seemed to prostitute itself to the spring break and summer tourist crowds. Add to that feeling the fact that there's absolutely no good way to drive east-west in town (which was unfortunate, since that was how we had to go to get to our PCA church), and I began to lament our attempts at church community in the city. I couldn't figure out how church "happened" naturally and personally in a city of 350,000, let alone 3.5 million.

Then we moved to St. Louis - a classic example of an American city that has suffered from decades of racial tension, white flight to the suburbs, and inner-city poverty (both financial and human). As the middle-class moved out, so grew with them the megachurches. Harvie Conn, in his book The American City and the Evangelical Church, sums up well what seems to have gone on here and in other metropolitan areas like it:

"The community church has become a regional church. And in becoming a regional church it becomes a megachurch...In this decentralized world the church loses its grip on local geographical neighborhood and is transformed into a megachurch, twenty-five minutes by car. The size of the megachurch becomes limited only by the size of its parking lot. And the lost community created by this change finds its replacement in the small cell groups and house meetings also characteristic of the successful megachurch." (p. 191)

(Random thought: Maybe this is why I really don't like small groups - it's an unconscious rebelling against megachurches everywhere. Actually, I love the Catholic "parish model" with churches geographically placed throughout the city and members living within the neighborhood attending; in fact, if it weren't for those pesky doctrinal issues - worship of Mary, sainthood, purgatory, etc. - I'd probably have become Catholic by now if for no other reason than I love the architecture. But I digress.)

After we moved to Maplewood (where we live half a house from the St. Louis city/county line), we knew we wanted to be part of as local a PCA congregation as we could. Thankfully, Crossroads Presbyterian was just a ten-minute walk around the corner and up the hill from the house we bought, and we're glad for the fact that in terms of both vision and facility, there are no plans nor means to grow the church beyond 300 members without planting another church (which we're actually doing now) first.

All that said, my heart for the city (Maplewood and/or St. Louis proper) is growing in addition to my heart for the country. Yes, I'm still waiting for the PCA to catch a vision for church planting in more rural areas, but I know it's tough financially and (honestly) culturally. But, while I still feel the need to be an advocate for rural ministry here in the city, I'm glad to feel an expanding love in this country boy's heart for the city as well.

So, with apologies to Augustine, is it the city of God or the country of God that matters?

My best answer: yes.

Move Over Mr. Moviefone

To fulfill Megan's last mission for Chevy this month, she had to put together her own one-minute commercial for the Traverse. I did my best Don Pardo/Mr. Moviefone mashup for the endeavor, and am now officially available for part-time voice-over work in the St. Louis area. Here's my resume:

Megan Dunham: Mommy Mission #4 from Megan Dunham on Vimeo.

First come, first served (I've got Pixar on the phone now).

Grandma and Grandpa

My folks were down this past weekend and we took a short walk around Forest Park on Saturday as it was so nice out. Megan snapped this picture and it's a nice one.

On the Family Picture

As you might discern from the title, we're scheduled for a 30-minute family photo session this morning at Forest Park. Unfortunately, it's going to be all of 45-degrees at the time of our 9 a.m. appointment, but at least it looks to be clear instead of rainy (otherwise, we were going to take the photos under The Muny awning, which would only be good if we got them to pay what we're paying as advertising).

Maybe it's because I don't consider myself particularly photogenic (or maybe I'm still scarred by the 1985 family portrait my mom, dad, and sisters had taken in front of an Olan Mills generic grey background set up in a Pike County hotel room - weird), but I've never really liked formal family pictures (I can't remove myself from the viewfinder); the other part is that, in the aforementioned family portrait in 1985, all of us dressed in pastel and looked like extras just off the set of Miami Vice.

Smiling is hard for me - not because I don't have things to smile about (nor do I NOT EVER smile, as some have accused me of); I just tend to smile at things that MAKE me smile, rather than because someone with a camera TELLS me to smile. Doing otherwise feels fake to me, and this feeling, combined with the fact that someone with a camera is about to capture my fakeness on film, makes me want to smile less.

I'm not one for posed portraits; I prefer a more candid approach. This, of course, requires more time than 30 minutes really allows, as it takes time for the family (okay, for ME) to feel comfortable enough to relax with someone looking at you through a lens and be photographed. I'm not a supermodel and am hardly infatuated with the idea of someone following me around with a camera to catch that perfect angle (actually, I don't think I have a perfect angle, let alone a "best side" - all mine are fairly flawed).

Crazy Horse refused to have his picture taken because he believed a picture stole the spirit of its subject. I think just the opposite: I hate having my picture taken because I've rarely taken one that I feel "captures" anything of who I am. Paul Simon once said that a song is like a picture that captures who you were at that time, but as you look back on it, you recognize that, indeed it's you, but it's NOT REALLY you, as you've changed.

I suppose that's why we take pictures, and I get the need to do so (especially if you have kids), but capturing such change and transition is why I write, not why I sit for a photo session. My daughters love playing with PhotoBooth on the Mac and capturing themselves in a picture, but I'm content to frame who I am with words rather than pictures, probably because words are black and white (and not pastel), or perhaps because there's a timelessness to words that pictures don't always preserve. I don't know.

All I know is I'm going to have to figure out how to smile for no reason today, and if you know me at all, I tend not to do much without a reason. At least the word most photographers use to coax a smile for the camera fits my thinking on the whole deal:

"Cheese!"

Daddy Madness

There's No Crying in Baseball

Thanks to my friend, Mark, I was one of the 47,296 (new record attendance at Busch Stadium III) who watched the Cardinals' last game of 2009 in the chilly October air. Unfortunately, the Redbirds lost to the Dodgers, 5-1, putting the final touches on one of the worst post-season collapses I can remember (at least we had great seats for the bitter end - section 162, four rows back, halfway between third base and left field).

When I wasn't shivering (it was 60-degrees when the game started, and at least 45 by the game's end), I watched Fredbird try to entertain a less-than-enthusiastic crowd.

And, when I just couldn't take it anymore (i.e. after the Dodgers scored two runs in the 3rd to be up 3-0), I tried to drown my sorrows with a Coke and a bag of peanuts. Didn't help.

Alas, what was in many respects a very good season through August, fell short of being a great season by September's end, and the October postseason was, needless to say, forgettable. I can't believe how poorly we played the past six weeks, nor that we got swept by the Dodgers (who we beat 5 out of 7 times this year already) in the NLDS.

Indeed, there's no crying in baseball; there were, however, more than a few sighs at Busch Stadium tonight.

Cardinals in Seven

The Major League Baseball playoffs officially begin today and the Cardinals are in the thick of the race. Unlike 2006 (when the Redbirds surprisingly won the World Series), I'm not concerned with the pitching; it's the hitting that worries me. I won't bore you with statistics, but let's just say we could improve in the offensive department.

Back in 2006, I wrote a post on baseball called The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Here's an excerpt:

The joy of baseball in October is that, if and when we have a spare moment (and can actually get the channel to come in), odds are there's going to be a baseball game on, one that a whole lot of people here in St. Louis (as well as throughout the country) are watching closely. Call us nostalgic, but this takes us back to when such shared experiences through one real-time medium made us feel more in touch with others than we sometimes do now.

I still feel that way - even more so now that our local ESPN radio affiliate is carrying all the playoff games in addition to the Cardinals'. It's fun listening to different announcers broadcast from different cities for different teams. It feels like folks are paying a little more attention to the same thing, which in our highly-diversified media, doesn't happen all the time. It's one game at a time - best of five for the pennant, best of seven for the Series - and anyone who cares about baseball is watching or listening.

Personally, I'm hoping for a Cardinals/Yankees series, as these are the two most classic franchises in the game (yes, Red Sox and Cubs fans, you heard me). I hope it goes seven games, and I hope the Cardinals win. But even if they don't, as the weather chills and the leaves fall, watching a game or two, popcorn in hand, will be a most enjoyable way to spend an evening in October.

I'm saying Cardinals in seven. Care to make your prediction?

Stairway of Dunham

We've got more pics to print and more old frames to repaint, but I like the results so far:

We're big black and white fans around here (not a hint of color in our entire wedding album). It's going to be fun to add pictures to the Stairway of Dunham in years to come.

Some Thoughts from Baseball Heaven

As the St. Louis Cardinals are twenty games over .500 with a magic number of 26 to clinch the division (and a real chance at the World Series), I thought I'd let everyone in on the secret to our success.

Some might think it's starting pitching, and that's part of it; Chris Carpenter, Adam Wainwright, and Joel Piniero are statistically as good as any threesome in baseball. Some might think it's the end of July trades for Matt Holliday, Mark DeRosa, and Julio Lugo, and that's part of it; the team has been on something like a 23-9 tear since acquiring these guys. Some might even think it's the recent acquisition of John Smoltz, and that's part of it; after setting a club record for consecutive strikeouts in his first game in San Diego and his second quality start last night, indeed the Cardinals may have a true fifth starter.

But the key to everything is Albert. Pujols. El Hombre. The Mang.

The beauty of Cardinal baseball - certainly this year as well as historically - is that the Redbirds and their fans usually don't have to put up with the egos and shenanigans of players whose personal lives and contracts ridiculously distract from their contributions. From old-time Cardinal greats like Stan Musial to future Hall of Famers like Pujols, by and large, the Cardinals as an organization have usually attracted and employed baseball players rather than baseball celebrities.

There's a big difference between the two. Can anyone imagine Alex Rodriquez in a Cardinals uniform? Manny Ramirez? Milton Bradley (whose name I still giggle at when I think of the board games of my youth)? No way.

But here's the thing: even if the Cardinals organization temporarily lost their minds, came up with the money, and went after one or more of these guys (or guys like them), Albert is the great perspective bringer. Statistically as well as personally, Albert is the best player in the game - he is the ceiling, the bar, the standard - both, on and off the field. And yet, because of his spirit and humility (which are so much a result of his Christianity), he is a leader - the leader - for the ball club, and the one from whom his teammates naturally take their cues (and remember their places). As a result, the Cardinals are a team, not a show.

Growing up 100 miles north of St. Louis, I was a Cardinals fan from the beginning. Now, living in this city and attending more than one game a summer, I'm daily amazed at how much St. Louisians love their baseball...and how much of what they love has everything to do with who Albert is. There is no one - no one! - in this city who does not speak well of Albert on or off the field, and it feels like a very "once in a lifetime" chance to get to see him do his thing day in, day out.

Die-hard St. Louis fans don't need or want east coast glitz; we won't tolerate west coast attitudes. St. Louis is and has always been about baseball - the game - and Cardinal players like Musial and Pujols who have and continue to represent all that is right and good about it. This is not idol worship - neither Musial or Pujols have ever demanded that; rather, it is about enjoying the goodness of God to others, and rejoicing in the fact that we, by God's grace as well, happen to be here to experience it firsthand.

"The one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is a part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again." - James Earl Jones in Field of Dreams

Rock the River (and Why I Didn't)

I hesitate writing this kind of post this soon back on the blog, but after reading the Facebook statuses ("stati"?) of many of my students - several of whom went to the Rock the River music tour here in St. Louis on Sunday - I feel compelled to do so. (Note: For any die-hard evangelicals out there, you might want to stop reading - this is gonna hurt.)

Full disclosure: I used to live in Colorado Springs, the evangelical Mecca of the United States (and possibly the world). I spent twelve years in the Springs - a city of 350,000 home to ministry headquarters for multiple, mostly parachurch groups like Focus on the Family, Compassion International, Young Life, at least a dozen Christian book publishers, half a dozen radio stations/networks, and one of the first organizations to take up residency in the Springs, The Navigators, with whom I was on staff.

So you know, I consider myself an evangelical, though I identify much more with the Reformed version of evangelicalism (click here for a brief explanation of what I mean).

If you know anything about The Navigators, you know that the organizaton has always had a strong connection with Billy Graham and his evangelistic crusades; Billy and Navs founder, Dawson Trotman, were the best of friends, and the Navs did most of the follow-up training after Billy would come through a town. Together Billy and Daws created created an evangelistic opportunity and then met needs for evangelistic and discipleship tools, many of which have helped thousands - yea, millions - of people in their understanding of aspects of the Gospel. Indeed, illustrations like The Bridge and The Wheel were once helpful to me twenty years ago.

But here's the rub: Graham's Crusades and The Navigators' tools (not to mention those of countless other organizations and evangelical churches) too easily reduce the Gospel to an incomplete presentation (at best), and little more than a self-help proposition (at worst). For an example of what I'm talking about, watch this presentation of The Bridge; it's called "Steps to Peace with God" and runs about three minutes, which is approximately how long we were told we had to share it with someone before they lost interest. (Note: If this isn't "hip" enough for you, try this one, entitled "Graffiti Video.")

The problem with either? Gone is any connection to actual history (i.e. the story of creation, Israel as God's Old Testament chosen people, or the Church as God's New Testament chosen people); missing is mention of the coming consummation (i.e. the ultimate redemption of all God has made). Instead, what presentations like these leave people with - indeed, what I had left people with - is simply the opportunity to "make a decision" and "invite Christ into their lives," though they have no real idea who Christ is, what was behind why he did what he did (hint: the answer goes beyond just John 3:16), or how any of it connects to the history or future of the world and those who have and will inhabit it as members of God's Church. (Click here for Franklin Graham's Gospel presentation Sunday afternoon for another example of what I mean.)

It's not that these Gospel reductions are necessarily wrong; it's just that they're painfully incomplete. True, they may have been semi-effective 50 or 60 years ago, or even helpful to a degree in the past 20 as part of an explanation of God's mission, but they are woefully limited and lacking in explaining God's redemptive-historical meta-narrative (overarching story) that our increasingly biblically illiterate population needs to even begin to process (let alone understand) what we're saying.

Which brings me back to my students: Rock the River is (and is being billed as) an event - a happening that kids can attend with their friends. And that's great: there's music from "some of the hottest Christian bands," a "relevant message," and, best of all it's free (an evangelical church's youth pastor's dream). What's interesting to me, though, is that a lot of kids I know who aren't Christians and don't make any attempt to live Christianly are still excited about going to this event. They know what it is and what it is about, but they don't seem at all put off by the possibility that what they might hear will speak against what they believe or how they live.

Why is this? Could it be that a propositional presentation of the Gospel is not connecting? Could these kids have already chosen to "make a decision" by simply saying no to the Gospel in its propositional form; thus, they can enjoy the rest of the evening (and their lives) without a second thought about God? They've answered the question they were asked to answer, so what's left to talk about? Let's rock!

I'm not trying to be critical, but I am reminded anew of the responsibility we as Christians have to expand our presentation of the Gospel to capture the beautiful story it is rather than reduce it to an equation that boils down to almost nothing. Jesus is not waiting for us to "invite him in" through propositional acceptance; rather, he chooses to say, "Come, follow me," which is his invitation to respond to the person of God and his story. And what a story it is - eternity past, present, and future...

Granted, there are those believing students who don't require huge events to grow their faith, but my experience is that even they are susceptible to confusion about them, especially when their youth pastors and youth groups seem to endorse/encourage/push them. Parents can also be enablers here, as the more "active" they see their kids being involved in "Christian events," the more convinced they are that their kids must be Christians, which is not always the case (and sometimes the furthest thing from it).

For other kids - those who, in their New Testament papers in my class, equate "sharing Christ" with "bringing friends to youth group" - an event like this is right up their alley - all they have to do is show up, have a good time, and let God (or at least the band member speaking on God's behalf, which can sometimes get interesting) do the rest. What could be easier to fulfill their end of the post-salvation proposition, often called "discipleship"?

Reformed evangelical scholar Mark Noll wrote, "The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind." In a brash case of plagiarism and to finish my thought here, I might revise his quotation to say, "The scandal of the evangelical Gospel is that there is not much of an evangelical Gospel." Indeed, we get bits and pieces in here and there through our illustrations, equations, and propositions, but most of us (myself included) would benefit from a review of what the Gospel is in its fullness as God's redemptive-historical story - with promises, names, dates, places, and responses of those in the Scriptures (as well as our own) to God's grace.

Jim Rayburn, founder of Young Life, used to say, "It's a sin to bore a kid." There's a reason kids today are bored with the Gospel: we've somehow convinced them it fits on a napkin.

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.

500

If anybody's still reading, you know I've been dragging my feet a bit on this, my 500th post here at Second Drafts. The reason is partly due to the fact that I haven't had much to write about (or time to write about it), and partly because I've been waiting for just the right topic to inspire me for this post's supposed significance.

Significance, however, is overrated. So, to bring some closure (at least for now), I thought I'd give you a peek into what I'll be doing over the next four months and simply call it a post. Of course, I may throw a picture or thought up here every now and then just to surprise folks, but for now, consider this the official start of my blogging sabbatical.

In the meantime, here's what I plan to be doing:

May
1-3: First official Dunham family camping trip of the season
8-10: Meet with potential ThirtySomewhere publishers in Colorado Springs
14-15: Covenant Seminary baccalaureate/graduation
23: Westminster Christian Academy graduation
29: School's out for summer

June
ThirtySomewhere writing/editing
Covenant Seminary Bookstore (one day a week)
5-7: Clayton Community Theatre's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
12-14: Clayton Community Theatre's The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
15-27: Westminster Christian Academy Summer Seminar in South Dakota
29: St. Louis Cardinals game

July
ThirtySomewhere writing/editing
Covenant Seminary Bookstore (one day a week)
19-25: Dunham family trip to Florida
27: St. Louis Cardinals game

August
ThirtySomewhere writing/editing
Covenant Seminary Bookstore (one day a week)
10: St. Louis Cardinals game
13: Westminster Christian Academy first day of school
31: ThirtySomewhere manuscript to publisher

In terms of the work, I tend to write best in the early morning, so when I'm not traveling or working the bookstore, my daily schedule will involve getting up at 4:30 or 5 a.m., writing for 3-4 hours, and then editing/revising a couple hours that afternoon. My goal will be 1500-2000 solid words (about 4-5 pages, double-spaced) per day. If I can put together 100-125 good pages and edit them together with roughly the same number from Doug by end of summer, we'll be in great shape.

So, stay tuned/subscribed for the occasional pic or progress report, but any prayers and general words of encouragement for the project are greatly appreciated.

Have a great summer.

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.

Saturday Morning Summary

Here's the latest:

• I finished up the third quarter of school at WCA on Wednesday by doing a six-hour grading blitz all day on Thursday, then meeting with dozens of parents Thursday night and Friday morning for parent/teacher conferences. Apart from the hassle of getting ready, I enjoy talking with parents - I get to be pastor, counselor, and friend during the time. Spring Break in one more week!
• The girls and I had a really good bike ride yesterday afternoon, riding from Maplewood all the way to The Hill and back. Though a bit chilly, the girls did great, though I'm probably not going to take them out on a busy Friday afternoon again (too much traffic). I wish we had some trails around here (or a bike rack for one of our vehicles to be able to drive to some).
• I'm working the bookstore all day today (that is, 9:30-2:30) - the first Saturday shift I've worked all year. I'm bringing two administrative assistants (a.k.a. "Frick and Frack") with me, so I'll at least have some entertainment if things are slow. 
• Speaking of books, I'm reading too many right now (roughly eight). I'm also having problems staying awake between chapters. I hate when that happens.
• Somehow, I've fallen behind in my online seminary studies again. I just don't have the time/really enjoy sitting and listening to recorded lectures from five years ago, especially on this particular topic. My teaching and learning class is going a little better, but I've got some work (read, write a case study, etc.) to do before class Tuesday night.
• Last night, I watched part of the Mizzou/Oklahoma State game from the Big XII tournament. Mizzou apparently won (I went to bed), and looks to have a pretty easy path to winning the tournament against Baylor as Kansas and Oklahoma were upset earlier on. But don't count on them just yet: historically speaking (and I'm talking decades here), the better Mizzou's chances tend to be, the worst they do. And yes, you can quote me.
• Speaking of sports, there's a great cover story on Albert Pujols in Sports Illustrated this week. Sounds like Albert got my email from a month ago...or not.
• For those who haven't figured it out yet, the new Facebook design is actually Twitter with a blue paint job. I still don't get the fascination.

Have a good Saturday, folks.

Melonhead, Aisle 12

Last night, Megan sent me to our local Shop 'n Save Spend to pick up a few basic staples to hold us over until she can do it for real on Friday. I had maybe 7-8 items on my list, all of which took me 45 minutes to find.

Can someone please explain to me the philosophy of grocery store organization? I get why the milk is always in the back and why the cat litter's not in the produce aisle, but I'm not sure anything else made sense.

Bike Buddies

It's been a beautiful weekend here in St. Louis - blue skies, temps in the 70s. Despite all the grading I needed to get done (and still have to do), the girls and I spent a fair amount of time (translation: hours) riding bikes all around Maplewood and enjoying the weather. The ladies are all pretty good riders, so it was a fun thing to do together.

Last summer, a student gave us this Trail-A-Bike her family had outgrown, so I finally got it out and hooked it up. Once my five-year-old and I both got used to it (the pic above is our first attempt), I put on my helmet and some better footwear and we had a great time. She's quite the taskmaster ("Come on, Dad! Pedal!"), and has assumed the role of my own personal trainer/entertainer, breaking into a rousing chorus of "B-I-N-G-O" while flying down hills (which, of course, is supposed to be motivation for me to climb them).

Good times, good times.

Who's the Daddy?

Well, the recession (when are we going to call it what it is: a depression?) has come to Westminster, but the news could be much worse. Our leadership has called for a salary freeze and put plans on hold regarding the new campus, but that's about it; no salary cuts, no lay-offs, and our enrollment numbers are still (somewhat surprisingly) strong.

I tend not to fret too much over things absolutely out of my control, so I didn't. However, I was glad to receive a teaching contract yesterday for next year (which I promptly signed and returned within five minutes of receiving). My joy is not so much in still having a job (though that's relieving), but more that the administration wants to keep me around another year (yes, I'm an affirmation junkie). Whew.

Megan, the girls, and I celebrated my newly-renewed employability with a rare trip to Hacienda (our favorite Mexican restaurant) last night. For reasons other than just the margarita, I was again reminded how good God is and has been to our family, and thanked him accordingly over chips and salsa. I want my girls to know that I am not the provider for our family; God the Father is.

I also prayed for those who have lost jobs or are trying to find them. It can't be easy right now, and my prayer is that even in the midst of uncertainty, God will meet needs through his sovereignty and his Church. I'm not sure if/when/how things are going to turn around (again, another thing completely out of my control), but God is neither surprised nor absent in the midst of our economic struggles. Pray with me for others, that they may see God's faithfulness in our world today as Old Testament Israel did then, as recorded in the Psalms:

"I have been young, and now am old,

yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken

or his children begging for bread."

Psalm 37:25

God is good...all the time.

Approaching Normality?

"Normality: being within certain limits that define the range of normal functioning."

I've not been motivated to write much of late as 1) there's been so little interaction here on the site the past two months; and 2) I'm up to my eyeballs reading and writing. For those anticipating email from me for one reason or another, hang in there - it's coming.

As it's now March, I'm newly-stoked about the fact that, in roughly 2 1/2 months, I'll be on the backside of a seminary degree and another school year of teaching. This summer will mark our fifth year in St. Louis, which doesn't really seem possible. Time flies when you're in transition, I guess, and it's felt like we've been in transition most of that time.

Thankfully, it's beginning to feel less transitory, and I hope this trend continues as we expect getting a more "normal" summer under our belts. Currently, I have no plans to 1) take summer classes; 2) buy a house; nor 3) move. I do plan to go to South Dakota again with 25 WCA high schoolers in June, possibly make a trip to a beach in Florida with Megan and the girls in July, and finish (finally) writing the ThirtySomewhere book with Doug by mid-August, but that's about it (and that's enough).

Between now and then, I've got a downstairs at home to fix up and paint over Spring Break, six hours of course credit to finish at Covenant, and four commandments and half of the New Testament left to teach (not to mention all the grading that goes with that). I've also got plenty of husbanding and parenting to do, so that should keep me out of trouble.

In many ways, it feels like I'm coming to the end of a particular chapter of life. How do I know a new chapter might be beginning? Several reasons, but mostly because U2's got a new album coming out tomorrow, and that usually means something cosmically significant for us (more on that, perhaps, in a future post).

My Little Protesters

I sent Megan and the girls to do my protesting dirty work at the St. Louis Tea Party today (I came up with the slogans). They had a good (cold) time, even getting interviewed by various media as to why they were there (though few have really reported anything - sad).

Here are a few sites where the ladies have turned up:

• St. Louis Post-Dispatch - Megan got quoted in the paper (and gets the last word)
• WORLD Online - Megan's post, "Partying Like It's 1773," is up
• The Dana Show - Click "Homeschool mama! Best craft EVER."
• St. Louis Tea Party - here's a pool of pics from the day (the ladies are included)
• Doctor Bulldog & Ronin - a bit of a scary site, but you can see Megan in a crowd shot, as well as a shot of our youngest pouring tea into the Mississippi

At best, the girls were part of something that might help make a point further down the road; at the least, they made the most of a good local opportunity to experience our freedom to assemble.

Saturday Smatterings

A few things:

• It's 70 degrees today. I'm thinking about getting the bike out and going for a ride. My kids think spring is here already, and I don't have the heart to tell them that the Midwest enjoys playing games with one's weather expectations. They'll find out soon enough, I suppose.
• Our younger daughters had a birthday party to attend at the seminary's log cabin this morning, so I volunteered to bring them so I could spend an hour-and-a-half studying at the library. Of all the things I miss most about being a full-time student, studying daily at the library has to be at the top of the list.
• Several of my ethics students are coming over for our Sabbath dinner tonight, and I'm really looking forward to hanging out with them. I love everything about these high schoolers - their good-natured senses of humor; the way they get so easily embarrassed; their zeal in engaging with and trying to figure out life. I'm blessed to call them friends as well as students.
• Speaking of ethics, as this past week was Spirit Week (may it rest in peace), I treated my kids to a week-long viewing of Pope John Paul II. The film - 180 minutes long - is a really well-done treatment of the former Pope's life, his heart for young people, and his commitment to biblical ethics on a variety of fronts. My students really liked it, and if you've not seen it, it's worth watching.
• I lost five whole pounds last week, almost exclusively from changing my diet (i.e. no exercise). I'm avoiding carbs and eating a lot more fruit and fiber, which all seems to be working. On Thursday, we went out to Red Robin for a birthday dinner and I ordered a burger wrapped in nothing more than lettuce (yes, I'm that serious). Encouraged, but I still have twenty-five pounds I'd like to drop.

Have a nice weekend, everybody.

Thoughts from 4 Miles Away

It takes me about 12 minutes to drive from our house to Washington University, so it was semi-surreal watching the Vice-Presidential debate held here in St. Louis Thursday night. I thought both Joe Biden and Sarah Palin did well, but would give a slight edge to Palin for holding her own (though little more) on the issues and for better connecting personally with the viewer. Biden seemed much more distant and on the defensive (at least in the first half of the debate - he kicked it in toward the end), which seemed to play well to Palin's "pit bull" personality.

The frustrating thing about national debates for me is that FactCheck can't keep up in real-time as to the factuality of what each candidate is saying at every level of detail. While I consider myself a fairly informed citizen, I don't have time to sift through and memorize voting records. Facts aside, both candidates (Palin especially) came off too "politician-y" in dodging some questions, but when you consider all that they had to cover without making any major gaffes, I suppose that's to be expected.

That's my two cents. What did you think?

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)

NKOTB

They're coming...and I'm as excited about their music as I was the first time around.

(That is, not very.)

“...to serve musicians, to serve artists, to renew the city...”

Our associate pastor, Greg Johnson, just forwarded a review of the art show going on at The Chapel, the "sanctuary for the arts" run by our church. We're thrilled about the good press, especially coming from The Vital Voice. Here's an excerpt:

"I must confess that when I got there my mood was as wrinkled as my slept-in shirt and scruffy as my unshaved, nubby face. I don’t know if it was the weather, the wine, or the wonderful art but everything weary, worn and cynical in my soul discernably dissolved and took a hike somewhere, maybe crossing Skinker into Forest Park to hit the links with the frou-frou."

You can read the whole review here.

Summer 2008: Closed

This weekend marked the official end of summer for us, and none too soon.

Thursday saw the start of school at Westminster, and that made for a couple of overwhelming (but still enjoyable) days. I have 106 students (mostly freshmen and sophomores) this year in three sections of Biblical Ethics and two section of New Testament, and while a lot of the freshmen I don't know, a lot of sophomores I do. It was fun seeing the kids again, and even more fun to have sophomores I had last year show up and say hi this year as juniors.

On Friday we finished the electrical and plumbing repairs mandated by the city of Maplewood to maintain occupancy of the house. The majority of the repairs were hardly life-threatening, but the previous owners hadn't addressed them as they should have (which the city of Maplewood took much pleasure in reminding us). Thankfully, after spending the last month living in and among boxes, electricians, and plumbers, it was a joy to have the house to ourselves for the first time in a long time.

Late Friday evening, after Megan had left for her retreat, I finished up the last paper and took the final online for my Spirit, Church, and Last Things class through Covenant. I can't even begin to express how great it felt to get out from under those deadlines. Though the content was enjoyable enough, the reading and the lectures were a handful, especially when I didn't touch any of it for half the summer. (Note to self: in the future, don't take a summer-length class in half a summer.)

As the plumbing inspector had signed off on things Friday, on Saturday I helped watched Dave put the siding back on the torn-up section of the rear of our house. I also spent the morning in the basement sweeping and putting all the shelves and stuff back after we had to move them for the repairs. I then took the girls to the pool for one last time (with all the beautiful weather we've been having, the water was freezing), and then the ladies and I went to Grant's Farm with our neighbor, Mrs. Gadell, and her granddaughter, Allison.

We got home three hours later (as did Megan) and, after a quick meal together, found ourselves sitting in back of the Gadells' house toasting the end of the day, the class, the repairs, the tyranny of the city of Maplewood over our lives, and the summer of 2008. Laughs were shared, beverages consumed, and there was much rejoicing.

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven" (Ecclesiastes 3:1).

The matters of this season are finished. Summer 2008: closed. Thank the Maker.