RESET: Week 1

A few days ago I posted my Facebook status as "is about to press RESET. Don't mistake it for the Staples easy button." I have started on this city wide ('Nati) journey that allows the participants to start over in their ideas about who Jesus really is and to formulate a more precise understanding, stripped of the trappings and veneer that somehow has been adopted. Apparently there are some 50 churches in the Cincinnati metro area that are participating in this six week teaching/study/small group experience.

Right away, as the Sunday morning message/teaching previewed, there will be nothing easy about this re-ordering of who we believe this Jesus to be. Truth is, I have allowed my surroundings and circumstances to influence my concept of who this God-man is. Maybe you have too. I guess that can be either good or bad depending upon the direction this influence has traveled. Environment and life events can either push you toward God or against him. For me, the darkest moments have ended up being the growing moments. Even still, I have a lot to learn when it comes to really knowing God. As I start this journey, I fully expect my mind to be challenged and heart to be hewn. At least that is what I am praying.

Hilary and I are hosting a group which started last night. After some of the preliminaries, the group began reading some verses from Luke's gospel. Here's one that we talked about for awhile. A quite unsettling quote from Jesus himself:

If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple (14:26, NAS).

Does Jesus really have to use that kind of rough language? Hate. Really? Looking more closely at the wording, Jesus in fact uses a word that apparently can be translated. Look here for a lesson from StudyLight. The most troubling thing for me is that Jesus is asking us to project an expression that is completely opposite toward the people to whom we are the most connected to and expect the most from in terms of relationship. Isn't Jesus the God of love? Why then would he expect hatred attached to his loyalty? Good discussion from the group. We finally settled on that perhaps Jesus was using hyperbole to make a very important point about being a follower. It takes my complete and unwavering devotion and focus to walk along side of him. No distractions can be tolerated, even from those we love most. Now I am getting in to some of my own thoughts not necessarily endorsed by the group, but I do not think Jesus is asking us to hate in the same way I understand the term. In other words, Jesus' statement is not a directive to dish out abusive thoughts and behaviors toward those individuals (or anyone for that matter). Maybe Jesus means 'hate the disconnect, distraction, distance that comes between us and do something to prevent it.'

Since I believe that I am only slightly scratching the surface and blogger has only so much space, I will stop for now. A more intense word study is needed here. RESET, week 2 is next and I am thinking this thing is going to get intense.

I Think I'm Onto Something

More Questions Than Answers is the title of this cockamamy blog. I want this blog, and in particular my writings, to be a blend of varying styles; some scrap booking type posts along with some entries that have the feel of a personal journal. Mostly, I want this to be a place to explore questions that seemingly have no answer or have a hundred viable answers.

A big question that remains unanswered revolves around one of the great mysteries of life: the nature of women. There is not a man in the history of the universe (I know, except for Jesus.) who can honestly claim he has women figured out. This is not to say that to be in the company of a woman is a bad thing; it is not. Sometimes knowing them and pleasing them is a difficult thing.

I love my married life. Let me rephrase...I love my life with Hilary. The previous sentence seemed a bit impersonal. I need to communicate clearly that I am not just an ordinary, married man but a man who is married to a woman that makes my life great. (Since Hilary will be reading this, I want to make sure I am not posed with questions that I cannot answer.)

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, so I wanted to really do it right. In the past I have struggled in the area of gift giving. I have spent way too much time and money trying to get that one special gift that would memorialize V-Day. I have tried everything both discretionary and practical. Gifts like perfume, flowers, candy, trinkets, jewelry, even kitchen utensils and pantry supplies have not seemed to hit the mark. Doing extra chores around the house and running errands, although appreciated, have missed too. This year I decided not to acquire more stuff that strains the budget and really gives little indication of how much I love her. Strangely, gifts have a knack for being dispassionate. My gift to her was simply being with her, engaged in meaningful activities and conversation together. Listen, I know this is not a sexy gift, but with three small children, time to talk and be together alone is a rarity. We had a wonderful time.

I think I was able to add a single piece to the complex puzzle. Life still throws out many questions, but after Valentine's Day 2009 the one about women is a point closer to being almost halfway answered.

Why I Love Baseball, Part V

It would be a guess on my part to say why some fans of sport dislike baseball. Let me speculate that the primary reason has to do with the pace of a ballgame. I have heard others complain that baseball is too slow. Personally, I could not disagree more. At least those haters have a rational explanation; because I can understand if you had no emotional connection whatsoever why a game appears crawling.

I love baseball because the game presents a slowly building drama that can usually be threaded from start to finish. There is no getting around the fact that the pace of play is torpid compared to other sports, but as a viewer, I am entertained in that I can see all the developing parts slowly coming together to a conclusion. A baseball game from start to finish tells a great story. Like a brilliantly written novel or a great movie, the audience experiences all the sub plots, character development, and conflict that excellent story telling provides.

I find it extremely enjoyable to manage along from my chair, trying to predict the outcome of an at-bat or decide when to bring in a new pitcher. The pace of the game allows for real time speculation and on the spot second guessing. Each inning is like a mini drama that connects to the previous one which finally comes to climax with slick glove work (6-4-3 double play) or an offensive explosion (3 run homer).

Whether watching a game from the ballpark or listening to a XM broadcast, it is probably the most relaxing activity I enjoy. During a game I have the time to think, analyze, draw conclusions and experience the script to a great story.

110words #022

I participate in this very short fiction writers community called 110words. Here is my latest entry which happens to be the feature story this week. I don't call myself a writer, but I am trying to learn. This writing community is a good way to practice. Having my work featured defiantly injects a boost of confidence. Read my entry below and then check out the other participants work either from the link above or under "blogs i follow" to the right. You can participate too by just going to the blog. C'mon, join me.


Convincing Mom

Yes! This potentially no good, horribly bad day has turned sublime. "Good bye" community theater and "so long" teeth whitening commercials. My big break is finally here. I'm going to be a star with endorsements, paparazzi, bling, a pop album...I need to call my friends, oh and mom. How do I tell my mom about this part? Do I mention the bedroom scene? I'll never hear the end of it. I know, I'll tell her it's just a kissing scene, which I've done before. What if I have to take my pants off? She'll never understand. Ahhh, I'll say I have a stunt double and that those cheeks aren't mine.