Joltin' Joe has left and gone away

It's been awhile, but I've covered this ground before:

• I asked Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?
• After some feedback, I clarified some of those thoughts with More on the Eclipse of the Great American Hero.
• And finally I found some satisfaction in getting to watch The Josh Hamilton Redemption begin to play out one night at old Yankee Stadium.

And if you don't want to go re-read all of that, essentially this was the root of my frustration:

I still find myself dejected over this sad state of affairs. It isn't because I just realized that there is hopelessness where I had always expected there to be hope. I think it is more that I wish to see my faith played out on that stage of public celebrity. I want to see some light shine through. I want to see some evidence in the world -- that I can point to... that I can show to others -- to say, "Here is where the Reign of God is breaking in & making a difference. Here is where the beacon on a hill is shining."

I know that Christ has forgiven us of all our sins (lowercase-"s"). But what about the (uppercase-"S") Sin problem here, while we're still on Earth? The cross has salvific power for eternity, and Scripture is witness to that. But also, the logic of the cross overcomes the problem in the here & now of the power of Satan in our lives. It's not enough to just have our record expunged. I want my heart washed clean, too.

And, so, it would be marvelous to find more examples, that are in public view, of humanity overcoming. I know some of you are still going to argue, "You're looking in the wrong place." I don't think I am. I'm just looking for that city on a hill. And I suppose my point in all this is that it's hard to find in celebrity. I want to be able to point at someone and say, "See, Christ works even THERE!"

That's a nice sentiment. But the more I've thought about it, it's a sentiment that's not completely honest. Because, whether or not I knew it at the time, I wanted to do more than point. I wanted to worship.

---

Worship is what we do with celebrities. Of all kinds -- whether from sports, politics, Hollywood, private enterprise, or the music industry.

Even before tabloids there was a fascination with celebrity. In the Bible, when Israel had no King, they coveted other nation's that had one. And they begged God for one. So he up & gave them what they wanted. So Israel finally had it's King.

This urge to crown Kings is at the root of some of humanity's best stories. Tell me -- how many of our ancient legends or fictional stories are a variation on this basic premise:

"ONCE- there was a great King. Who ruled with wisdom and power and justice and compassion -- all at once! And therefore, when the King was there, the land experienced a Golden Age. And everyone blossomed and we all reached our potential. The land blossomed, the arts blossomed, our relationships blossomed, civilization blossomed.

"BUT- something has taken the King away. So everything has deteriorated. Everything has fallen into disrepair & decay.

"BUT- we look for the day in which the King will come back."

(HT Tim Keller, "Jesus Our King")

How many of our stories trace these themes? Robin Hood. King Arthur. Lord of the Rings. The current Batman franchise of movies. That just off the top of my head. There are so many others. How many more?

And why is this the case? Why this fascination with Kings? Why this need to crown them? When the actual record of human kings is terrible. When you survey the landscape of history, the actual record of kings is nothing but a trail of tyranny, tragedy, and broken-ness. There's a very good reason we don't have kings any longer. We decided it was a good idea to get rid of all the kings! We've replaced nearly all of them with Democracies.

And yet still: a good story about a king has a powerful impact on us. Why?

I'm convinced now that it's because we were wired to worship. We were made to give our devotion to someone. As the ancient writer said: "Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you."

The problem is this: we have this culture where we are invited to misplace our worship in any number of ways. We're even honest about it. We have a TV show called "American Idol." We even call our sports heroes idols.

Sportscaster Bob Costas put it this way 17 years ago when he eulogized Mickey Mantle:

And more than that, he was a presence in our lives-a fragile hero to whom we had an emotional attachment so strong and lasting that it defied logic. Mickey often said he didn't understand it, this enduring connection and affection-for men now in their 40s and 50s, otherwise perfectly sensible, who went dry in the mouth and stammered like schoolboys in the presence of Mickey Mantle.

Maybe Mick was uncomfortable with it, not just because of his basic shyness, but because he was always too honest to regard himself as some kind of deity.

But that was never really the point. In a very different time than today, the first baseball commissioner, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, said every boy builds a shrine to some baseball hero, and before that shrine, a candle always burns.

For a huge portion of my generation, Mickey Mantle was that baseball hero.'

In a time where baseball monopolized America what Judge Landis said was true. But now, with so many sports & entertainment options, boys (and even grown men) have shrines to all manner of heroes.

For generations of men in Pennsylvania, that shrine was built for JoePa. He was a great ball-coach. He represented winning, yes. But more than that. His credo was "success with honor." He championed the Penn State way. He represented doing things right, not taking short-cuts, and being people of integrity. Once, when asked when he would retire, he quipped that he would not leave the game "to the Jackie Sherrills and Barry Switzers." And those who worshiped at the feet of Paterno pumped their fist. Because Joe was their crusader. Wrestling the trophies away from those who would get down in the slop & dirty up the game we loved.

Penn State isn't unique in this way. I like the way Cecil Hurt put it:

Part of the culture which made denial possible in Happy Valley is a mentality that takes hold most tenaciously with success, one in which the football program isn't simply successful, or an asset to the community or the engine of a powerful economic machine. An attitude develops that the program is "good" (and, by extension, that most of its rivals are "bad").

All the great paeans of the great white knight Joe Paterno... Rick Reilly calls them idotic hagiography.

Hagiography: writing about the lives of saints. Beyond just putting people up on pedestals. But putting them on thrones & placing halos over their heads. When really they're just human.

You know what Saint Joe did 18 months ago when he found out that his old pal & assistant Jerry Sandusky was under investigation? When Joe could feel the noose tightening around his own neck? He did what most folks would do: he gave into instincts of self-preservation. He took Penn State University to the negotiating table and extorted them for a sweet contractual exit package. He transferred ownership of his home to his wife. Because he knew what was coming. It was like a slow motion train wreck for him. And he was shielding Sue & the rest of his family from the liability locomotive that was barreling down the tracks directly at them.

That's a far cry from the philanthropic image of Joe Paterno. The man who gave millions of dollars back to the University he worked for. Nevertheless, in the end, Joe & his sons were using whatever leverage they could to extract whatever benefits they could out of that University.

Hardly a saint. Idiotic hagiography.

Some people still have a hard time accepting the truth about Joe. After the Freeh Report was released last week, someone placed a sign at Joe Paterno's statue that read, "Remember: He was a man, not God!!!" It seems that at least one person couldn't accept that:

This was passed onto me by Mary Curran. Someone ripped the Paterno statue sign, which said, 'he was a man, not a god' twitter.com/sganim/status/…

— Sara Ganim (@sganim) July 15, 2012

It seems to be a ferocious thing to step between someone & the object of their worship.

---

We all would be better off if we kept the sobering lessons of this tragedy in our minds. Lesson #1 being this: protect the defenseless.

But while fans with their Joe Paterno shrines have furiously been defending the man, I appreciated these words from one of Joe's best players & one of Penn State's best ambassadors-- LaVar Arrington:

"If you really think about it, how much do I really know [coach Joe Paterno]?" Arrington told the "Wetzel to Forde" radio show. "How much do we really know him? I know the coaching figure - just like with Jerry Sandusky, I knew the coaching figure. I mean, there's obvious ways of looking at this right now with 20-20 hindsight, but I didn't know the person I thought I did."

The next time you're tempted to go use all your social media powers defend the honor of Barack Obama... or Mitt Romney... or Ron Paul...

or your favorite coach... or your favorite player...

or your favorite billionaire... or your favorite writer...

...as deeply as you may desire to offer your devotion to somebody -- as much as you may want to sit that person on the throne of your heart & place a crown on their head...

that person is just a person. How well do you really know them?

On Paterno

How ironic can names be? Consider with me:

• A man who grows up to become the General Manager of George Steinbrenner's New York Yankees... named CASHMAN

• An already famous man who becomes infamous for tweeting out a picture of his manhood... named WEINER

• A guy who runs a multi-billion-dollar Ponzi Scheme for decades, defrauding thousands of people & living off their wealth… named MADOFF

And, now-- we have a man who was a revered father figure for multiple generations of young men. Who, as it turns out, abandoned children who were in need of just such a father figure & protector. Who, as we learned in yesterday's Freeh Report, shielded a monster by acting like the father figure of a family mafia.

... named PATERNO.

The lionized leader of the Nittany Lions who, it turns out, was the definition of duplicity.

That's a lot of levels of irony. But it's no joke. Not for the victims of the man who Joe Paterno and his superiors lackeys protected.

A lot of good writers have already weighed in on Paterno. About how he was a derelict father figure. Or about how he was a a liar. Even about how Paterno's legacy now stands. An excerpt from that Dan Wetzel column:

There is no denying Paterno was a positive force in many lives, a gifted coach and motivator and, until now, a fine image for Penn State. None of that equals his shame.

The reason Paterno was able to wield such influence is the outsized value placed on college sports and the coaches who deliver those winning programs. A “pyramid of power,” Freeh described it. And anyone pointing to all the players he helped is just repeating the same pathetic concept.

Paterno did help his football players. Those men, however, were heavily recruited, talented and often highly motivated people. If they hadn’t gone to Penn State they would’ve gone to Michigan or Virginia or Notre Dame.

For decades he found a way to take top-line kids and maximize what they could do, usually by motivating them to excel at a sport they already loved. They were subject to mass adulation and had the potential to become millionaires at the professional level.

He wasn’t taking illiterate third-world children and getting them to Harvard. Almost every person Paterno positively impacted through football would have fared similarly had Penn State not even fielded a team. They just would have played elsewhere. Bo Schembechler or Lou Holtz or Bobby Bowden would’ve coached them up in football and life, just like Paterno did.

Conversely, the kids that Jerry Sandusky tricked, molested and in certain ways destroyed wouldn’t have lived the same life had Paterno done the right thing. They were attacked, out of nowhere. Without fault. Without provocation. Without the opportunity to create their own destiny.

The lives of these kids were profoundly and forever destroyed because of the actions of Sandusky, Spanier, Schultz, Curley and, yes, Joe Paterno.

There could never be enough victories, enough perfect graduation rates, enough national championships to justify that.

Joe Paterno was a great influence on men who were already likely to live great lives, men who could help him win football games.

He was a failure to those Second Mile boys who had no such talents, no such opportunity, no parade of recruiters looking to offer them scholarships. He turned his back on the very kids that were desperate for the kind of hero that Joe Paterno’s former legacy claimed he was all about.

And yet there are those who persist in saying that Joe Paterno was a man who "lived a profoundly decent life." Like Joe Posnanski, the man whose biography on Paterno will be published next month. And far be it from me to put words in Posnanski's book that the public has yet to see. But I suspect he will make mention of the lives Paterno touched that are touching others in tremendously positive ways.

Can you ignore that? You may have heard the Scriptures (1 Peter 4:8, James 5:20) that highlight the possibility of covering over a multitude of sins. But is it possible for a sin to cover over the magnitude of having “lived a profoundly decent life?”

I guess it depends on who is keeping the moral ledger. In the eyes of public opinion, I suppose the answer is 'yes.' The weight of Paterno's misdeeds is leading the media to tear his reputation asunder. "Not even a lifetime of heroism can make up for leaving a single child alone, abandoned to evil, weeping in the dark." (NYT) "Like the Roman Catholic Church, Penn State is an arrogant institution hiding behind its mystique." (NYT) Certainly the courts will follow public opinion. There may be nothing left but a heaping crater after the civil liability lawyers get finished with Penn State. Not to mention the separate on-going investigations being conducted by the Attorney General's Office of Pennsylvania, the FBI, and the Federal Department of Education. That last one is especially frightening for a University. Making the on-going NCAA investigation look paltry by comparison.

But public opinion can be such a capricious moral judge. And if our moral compass is only as actuated as the scale of punitive damages that may be exacted, then that compass is broken.

I think Dan Wetzel artfully explains (above) how that the magnitude of these wrong-doings overwhelm the good Joe Paterno has done. But does it wipe out the good in it’s entirety? No. Because Paterno’s influence in the lives of his players persists. Players that in fact did not go to UVA or Notre Dame. Who were shaped and molded by Paterno & who are shaping and molding others with positive values. That’s what makes this so complicated.



I'll say this- the statue & shrine at Penn State University that lionizes Paterno as a “Humanitarian” has to be removed. The Freeh Report showed very clearly how PSU weighed the sentiment of being "humane." It had everything to do with how Paterno & co. weighed treating Jerry Sandusky. It had nothing to do with how Paterno & co. weighed the lives of children who had been raped. Not to mention the ones who would be raped over the next decade. Yes- the statue has to go. Has to. It mocks Penn State University (and everything that Joe said he stood for) as long as it stays up.

And even in some ways still I pity Paterno. The choices he had before him in 1998 and beyond weren’t clean. As a good buddy wrote to me, “Paterno had a right choice, but he didn’t have a nice choice.” I think that's right. Paterno didn't ask for this. He had a serious decision thrust upon him. And he made the wrong choice to cover willfully for a monster.

I just hope that you & I make better decisions if, God forbid, we’re ever faced with a right choice that’s not a nice choice.

Unsocial Media

The internet is a strange place.

That's a statement we can all unite around, isn't it? Whether we hate it or we love it, we can recognize that the virtual connections we forge on the internet produce different experiences than real-life connections. Sometimes they are plain unusual. And yet, where else can you connect ideas so freely? We tolerate the oddity of web-connected gnostic relationships (read: "not in the flesh") because they bring us some value. Whether it's sharing something we love, exchanging fresh points of view, finding support through a hardship, or just helping us feel less lonely, our virtual connections serve us a worthy purpose.

On that last point, it's interesting to hop onto social media sites like Facebook and Twitter when something big is happening in the world. Instead of experiencing something alone you can feel like you're experiencing it right along with all your virtual friends. Watching a web-cast of some conference by yourself? Hop on Facebook chat & find out if anyone else is watching it. Or send out a Tweet with the appropriate hashtag. It's almost like a virtual town square where everyone can gather to share the experience together. Part of the attraction has to be the ease of access: instead of getting dressed up, climbing in your car, and going to an actual town square, you can just flip open your laptop.

And so that's what I found myself doing when the news starting buzzing on Sunday night May 1st that the President was requesting time from the major networks to make an announcement. I hopped on Twitter and Facebook to see what the world was saying. What I observed was fascinating. As the President was making his announcement, dozens of people were posting the news as their status. The people I follow on Twitter made snarky comments about this or that (as only people on Twitter can do). But the mood was mostly celebratory. People happy that the boogey-man was gone. People happy that their deeply-rooted beliefs in American Exceptional-ism were confirmed. People happy that justice was done. People happy for our troops, as if this was "Mission Accomplished" (and it felt like it), and happy for families of troops, as if this justified their decade of sacrifice.

But as joyful post after joyful post crawled across the computer screen, I began to notice another theme rising: righteous indignation. Disgust that anyone could find any glee or redemption from the death of a man. Little matter that this man was the most terrifying figure of this century. These people were upset -- uninterruptedly shouting into the chorus of joy about how inappropriate the joy was. It would be akin to a small faction of people making a ruckus about people enjoying a wedding reception because of 9% unemployment, or suffering in Sudan, or something along those lines. It was amazing. Like shouting into a whirlwind. Did these people think that they were going to shout down a happy mob? Who shouts down a mob?

Then I observed more indignation. People acting cranky over the President getting credit "instead of the soldiers." People acting cranky over the news about it being everywhere. People expressing anger over almost anything! Even people acting cranky over people getting cranky. Yeah, that's right: that was me. Even I tried to shout down the army of wet blankets who were trying to douse everyone's happiness. I'm not proud of it, but it happened.

The whole thing was just a strange phenomenon that led me two days later on Facebook to opine:

(Philip) thinks he learned a lesson since Sunday night: when big events happen, stay off of Facebook. Too emotionally charged. Too many opinions. Just seems like a good policy.

Let's see how long it takes before I have to re-learn this lesson

Turns out it was 9 weeks to the day. 63 days!

Because last Tuesday a Florida jury declared a verdict of not guilty on the most heinous charges brought against Casey Anthony. The reaction was virtually immediate; it was swift & full of fury. Twitter exploded. As I looked on, one person after another unleashed their rage -- or at least their dissatisfaction -- on Facebook. The general theme was that there was a miscarriage of justice. Some were affected to the point of feeling sick to their stomach. Some expressed not ever being able to trust the justice system again. (...seemingly reversing the sentiment from 2 months ago. If killing bin Laden helped us all feel strong again, the Casey Anthony verdict made us feel weak) And then, of course, the snark.

"O.J. Simpson finds this verdict outrageous."

"I wonder if the Casey Anthony trial jurors would ever let her babysit THEIR kids?!?"

"I wonder if Dexter will come after her!"

Social media has made us all into social commentators. And then there's strange minds like mine that spend time like this commenting on all the commentary.

Me personally: I could feel the spirit of spirit of indignation welling up inside me again. Not because I felt honor-bound to defend Casey Anthony. Not at all. It's pretty apparent that this woman murdered her daughter (whether purposefully or accidentally), then hid the body, then lied to the police. And all that while partying like a rockstar. No, I didn't feel the need to defend her; my temper was rising because... I guess because everyone else's was. "Don't these people know that the state prosecutors did a terrible job?" "Don't these people know that the jurors did exactly what they were supposed to do?" "Why are all my grace-accepting Christian friends obsessed with seeing this woman fry in an electric chair?"

Thankfully I refrained from angering anyone with these thoughts. I think. I let a couple of them loose on Twitter. Hopefully without causing anyone else ill temper.

I've spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out what possesses me in moments like these. Part of it has gotta do with how I'm wired. Being an ideological moderate, I like things balanced. So when I encounter a perspective that is wildly one-sided, and emotionally charged, it charges my emotions to want to respond with the other side of the argument. It's as if something somewhere deep inside me is wanting to exclaim, "THIS IS MORE COMPLEX THAN YOU'RE LETTING ON, YOU KNUCKLEHEAD!"

The good folks at the "You Are Not So Smart" blog would say that I'm unwittingly giving myself over to the backfire effect. That's where, when confronted with an opposing opinion, you strengthen & fortify your own views. I like how they put here:

The last time you got into, or sat on the sidelines of, an argument online with someone who thought they knew all there was to know about health care reform, gun control, gay marriage, climate change, sex education, the drug war, Joss Whedon or whether or not 0.9999 repeated to infinity was equal to one – how did it go?

Did you teach the other party a valuable lesson? Did they thank you for edifying them on the intricacies of the issue after cursing their heretofore ignorance, doffing their virtual hat as they parted from the keyboard a better person?

No, probably not. Most online battles follow a similar pattern, each side launching attacks and pulling evidence from deep inside the web to back up their positions until, out of frustration, one party resorts to an all-out ad hominem nuclear strike. If you are lucky, the comment thread will get derailed in time for you to keep your dignity, or a neighboring commenter will help initiate a text-based dogpile on your opponent.

After some deliberation, I have decided that this is folly. (g) Seriously: Thank God for good satire to rouse us out of the caricature-like behavior that we can so easily & unwittingly slip into.

I've decided to repent & not steamroll over other peoples' views anymore. I recognize that it will be difficult for my balance-craving psyche to accomplish. But somehow I'll manage.

I think of two examples from Scripture. One is the prophecy about Jesus in Isaiah 42 that's also quoted in Matthew 12: "He will not wrangle or cry aloud, or raise his voice in the streets." Jesus managed to live His life and make His point without making a dramatic scene. Seems like I could do the same. I've also long admired Paul with how he combined both boldness and humility in a spirited defense of himself and his faith in Acts 26. One of the more under-rated passages of Scripture, IMO. Probably one I could stand to spend more time with. As could we all.

And if social media is the virtual town square, then it makes sense to act as one would when actually at the town square. If those gathered grow unruly & start to act with great furor, common sense would generally say, "Time to head home." I don't know why it's so hard -- maybe because it's just so intense -- but it wouldn't hurt just to log off. It's not like missing out on those two or three heated status threads (read: virtual Molotov Cocktails) is going to hurt. In fact, if indeed I were throwing a few around, it probably would.

* I wish I'd made that fabulous photo. I didn't. That came from www.xkcd.com via the "You Are Not So Smart" Blog.

The Will of God

It's always kinda awkward whenever someone in a conversation begins talking about "the Will of God." For one thing, these people often seem to be speaking with far too much boldness in relation to their ability to actually discern the mind of God. Seems like such conversations need to be peppered with lots of humility. Instead, the phrase "the Will of God" is often used as a sort of "trump card show of confidence" in order to end any conversation or debate on a given subject.

It's also awkward because this phrase also sounds like some kind of divine magic 8 ball. As if people are directed to behave or act in certain ways because they received a message from on high, and it is "the Will of God." Kind of difficult these conversations often go after that. I usually want to ask lots of questions to discover how it is that person is so certain that they've stumbled upon the road map for the rest of their life.

Because we all want that. We face all kinds of decisions every day. Am I going to go to bed early? Or am I going to bang out a blog entry at 3 in the morning? Am I going to eat healthy? Or am I going to indulge? Am I going to be kind? Or does this person really need to be needled right now? All sorts of decisions we face & make on a daily basis. But there are some decisions that are big. That are weighty. Decisions that will be determinative for our lives and will decide which direction we go from this point we're at now. And in the midst of those decisions, it would be phenomenally fortuitous if we had access to a divine magic 8 ball! Right? Because we're sitting there, and we've been praying our brains out, and it seems even foggier about which road to take. It's Monty Hall's "Let's Make a Deal," and we get nervous about the notion that some of the roads we go down could really suck.

So we want God's guidance. Because we don't want our major decision to result in something that sucks. And I'm convinced that sometimes we just pretend that we did receive that guidance from on High to make ourselves feel better about whatever road we ourselves chose.

But there is more than just the fear of our choice sucking. I think we have a genuine desire to be in the center of God's Will. We know that God has a master plan for the universe. And that God is detail-oriented. And we want precisely what God had in mind for us all along. I think there's this noble sense, too, in which we want to discover and live in God's plan for our lives.

But this noble notion can clash with our own well-laid plans too, right? Because we all may believe that God has a place in mind for you where you can be your best for Him. But how that works itself out in our mind is that WE (not God) have a place in mind for ourselves where we can be our best for our own success and fortune, and hopefully God too. Because even though we know God has his scheme, we have our schemes too. We've got our own ideas about how we'd be happy and which direction we would like for our life to go in. And we get discouraged when our schemes don't come to pass. We wonder about the Will of God. We begin to question it, and doubt even the existence of God.

I appreciated a sermon I read (and subsequently tweaked & turned around and preached) that engaged this very idea. Let's consider Paul here for a moment, and his background. He used to be called Saul, remember. He was a Jewish Pharisee who'd been converted to Christianity. But even before that, he'd experienced great privilege. He'd been born a Roman citizen in Tarsus. He studied under a great Jewish scholar named Gamaliel, which today would be like bragging you graduated from Princeton. Paul was bred as a cultural & theological thoroughbred.

And yet instead, God decided to use him like a work horse. Check out how Paul talks of being humbled in 2nd Corinthians 11:

What anyone else dares to boast about—I am speaking as a fool—I also dare to boast about. ²²Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they Abraham's descendants? So am I. ²³Are they servants of Christ? (I am out of my mind to talk like this.) I am more. I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. ²⁴Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. ²⁵Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, ²⁶I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers. ²⁷I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. ²⁸Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches.

Quite a lot happened to Paul. And yet, Paul didn't take that as an opportunity to re-evaluate how plausible or reliable his faith was. He didn't doubt God. Or even the Will of God. He didn't question whether God was mis-allocating resources. Because thoroughbreds were born to run the Kentucky Derby, not get flogged like a work horse. And Paul here isn't bragging so much about accomplishments. Rather, he's taking pride in being right at the center of God's Will.

In relation to this, I think about the kinds of trials we face in America in the 21st century. Financial "stress." (The quotation marks are there because if you gripe about that, you're still probably reading this on your personal computer via your own internet connection. I'm gonna say that "tightening the belt" isn't as bad as a lot of people have it right now) Cancer, and other health issues. And just the basic human condition. We stress out over way less than Paul had to deal with, don't we? We hear about one scary doctor's visit, and it's got us re-evaluating whether or not there's a God in Heaven. Or we have a few lean months financially -- probably because we could have been more responsible with our money -- and we begin to wonder whether God still loves us or not. Sometimes I think we just need to toughen up. I know I'm a wimp. A lot. And I think we just need to become more comfortable with how the Will of God unfolds even if it's most unpleasant and uncomfortable. Especially when it's most unpleasant and uncomfortable. Because Paul was.

And Paul didn't even mind if the road ahead was foggy or seemed impeded. I know this because of how the 2nd Missionary Journey unfolded. It began in Acts 15 with Paul's random idea, "Hey... how 'bout we go visit those churches we planted way back yonder?" Let's check out how it progresses in Acts 16:

⁴As they traveled from town to town, they delivered the decisions reached by the apostles and elders in Jerusalem for the people to obey. ⁵So the churches were strengthened in the faith and grew daily in numbers.

⁶Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. ⁷When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. ⁸So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. ⁹During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, "Come over to Macedonia and help us." ¹⁰After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

Fascinating here how Paul and his Mission Team are blocked at every turn from heading into Asia, isn't it?

Little did they know it at the time, but this was a turning point moment. Paul seemed convinced that it was time to go make in-roads for the Gospel in Asia. It seems he thought that there was to be the great frontier for faith. But God had another place in mind: Europe. Macedonia was the gateway into that influential continent. And from his adventure in Europe would come churches to whom Paul would end up writing weighty letters. Epistles upon which we hang on every word. So for this and many other reasons -- many of which are still perhaps a mystery -- God directed Paul up toward Europe.

But Paul & Co. didn't know that until at least verse 9. These guys are HUNDREDS of miles into their missionary until they get clued into this fact. It wasn't so easy for Paul, an inspired writer of Scripture, to discern the Will of God.

I think we could conclude this for ourselves as well: God's Will is not always easily discerned. Or to put it in terms of this story: God's Will is often not the shortest distance between two points.

Wouldn't it be great if it was? Wouldn't it be great if living life was like cooking by picture, where you receive an image that shows "here's step ONE," and then "that's step TWO," and so on? Seems like that'd make life fantastically easier to execute. And yet, we're a people called to live by faith, not by sight.

I think we're in need of understanding that our sight is pretty dim anyway. As Paul said in 1st Corinthians 13, "we see as through a mirror dimly," or "as through a glass darkly." It's DIFFICULT to discern the Will of God. I liked how N.T. Wright (in his oft-praised book, "Surprised by Hope") explained that the things that even seem so literal & mapped out in Scripture perhaps aren't so clear as cooking by picture:

We must remind ourselves yet once more that all Christian language about the future is a set of signposts pointing into a mist. Signposts don't normally provide you with advanced photographs of what you'll find at the end of the road, but that doesn't mean they aren't pointing in the right direction. They are telling you the truth, the particular sort of truth that can be told about the future.

But to bring it back to Paul and Macedonia, I liked how Mr. Deem (the author of that sermon) framed the different elements of God's Will. Military people will understand this language well. Mr. Deem says that God provides mainly general direction, but also specific direction only when needed.

When you're in the military, you live under general orders. If you're a sentry in a watchtower, general orders says you are not to fall asleep. You don't have to be given a special order to stay awake on your watch. That's part of general orders.

Paul was operating out of the general direction sense of the Will of God by even being on this Missionary Journey. We don't have an indication from Scripture that Paul was given a special revelation to go on this trip. They just decided to go, because they were living under the general mandate that God's Will is to "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you." They didn't have to wait around for God to give them a clear mind & a warm feeling to go do their job for the Kingdom.

There are those who excuse their inactivity from the life of God by saying to themselves, "Well I haven't heard from Him regarding His will for my life." Well, if that's your self-talk, I'm here to tell you that you just did.

Look at Paul & Silas. It was God's ultimate plan that they go to Macedonia & visit all those places in Europe. But His will took a circuitous route.

And I think this is an important point as well. So often, we want to know from God what the specific direction of his will is for our lives, but we don't even bother ourselves with managing the general direction sense of God's Will. We are desperate to know where to go next, what to do next, what's over the next horizon. When maybe things would actually fall into place if we cared more about God's general will, like the Great Commission or becoming more Christ-like. Some of us want the vision of the Man of Macedonia, but we wouldn't have even been on the missionary journey to receive it in the first place! We're up in the watchtower asleep, and we're wondering why we're not getting the special orders for the super-cool secret missions that all the good, disciplined soldiers get.

Do you want to know the Will of God for your life? Get off the sidelines and get in the game! God's up to something in the world, and He could use you to make a difference in other people's lives. That's what His will is for you. And I feel safe saying that it's often a whole lot less glamorous and a whole lot more ugly than we imagine it in our mind's eye when we're dreaming ahead.

But that's not to say that there aren't some just beautifully rewarding moments. Because there are. Because I do believe that God has a place in mind for you where you can be your best for Him. And when you discover that place, revel in it. No matter how painful it might seem on any given day. Because, like Paul showed us back there in 2nd Corinthians 11, there's a great pride and satisfaction to be had in being right at the center of the Will of God.

Fair Weather Fanhood: A Manifesto

Just a fair warning to all: this is a long one. Relentlessly long. You may wanna try to print it out & read it somewhere more comfortable than a swivel chair. Then again, it might empty your ink cartridge. Ehhh, do whatever you want.

---

Allow me to go ahead & get the griping out of the way early: the weather STINKS here in Florida right now. It's positively disheartening. I know I shouldn't complain. I don't guess it does any good to complain... except making me feel better. So, just so we're clear on this matter, I don't like the hot weather right now. Not one bit. Not at all.

I guess the other side of this coin is that we're the first to get the warmth of spring. That is pleasant. But it also means an oppressively endless summer. Starting in May and running through June, July, August, September, and now 12 days into October, it's still summer weather here in Panama City, FL.

"So what? Big deal? You should be happy you don't have to shovel snow." Let me explain a little bit of what this is like for you, the non-Floridian.

I walk my dog every day. I'm a good, loving master, and my dog loves me for it. If you don't know, I'm a big man. Not small. I tend to perspire, like many big men. Okay, let's just keep this simple: I fill up a t-shirt with sweat every day. Every day there is a slim ring around the shirt-tail that is dry because it's the one part of the shirt not sticking to my sweat-soaked body. It is every bit as awful & disgusting as it sounds. And THIS every stinkin' day. Especially days where the heat index rises into the high 90's. Or over 100, like it did at least twice last week.

It became a source of humor for one of my golf buddies the other day. He caught me a mile into my route last week, and he stopped to turn his truck around, roll down his window, point at my shirt, guffaw, and think of every wisecrack he could in the 30 seconds he had to make fun of me.

It was humiliating. I will crush him the next time we hit the links.

What's more, the grass hasn't stopped growing here. And unless you've mowed Florida grass, you probably don't grasp how relentless this creature is. And I've been an outstanding yard manager this year. I'm not bragging; I'm just saying that it was a banner year because I put a lot of effort into it. I didn't neglect my lawn. Mowed it every week.

And I'm still mowing! It's not over! I want it to be over! Why can't it be over?! It's supposed to be over! It's October; it's supposed to be COOL. The grass should stop growing so fast by now. But it hasn't been that way.

Plus, when it gets down to it, I'm just selfish. I feel entitled. I don't know why, but I feel like October is my month. I want to walk outside to my truck & have there not be any humidity in the air. I'd like to not be scrambling to click on the A/C as quickly as I can. In fact, I'd like to roll down the window & fill my nostrils with the crisp air of a cool, fall day. Gosh. Just typing that makes me yearn even more. And that is supposed to happen in October. Why hasn't that happened yet here in October?

"Okay! We get it. It's hot in Florida & you hate it." Sorry. So what am I getting at?

Fair weather. I love fair weather. Who doesn't? Who isn't a fan of a crisp fall day?? Nobody, that's who. I want to declare this openly & loudly: I'm a fan of fair weather.

"STOP! What are you REALLY getting at?"

Well, not only am I a fan of fair weather, but I'm also a fair weather fan. There. I said it. I root harder for winners than I do for losers. But at least I'm honest about it. Seriously: who in their right mind roots harder for losers than they do for winners? Nobody, that's who! Nobody "in their right mind" that is. Nuts & weirdies root hard for losers. And I'm not gonna be one of those nuts or weirdies.

The season's over & we can call it now: the Red Sox royally sucked this season. The only reason they won the Wildcard is because the Rangers collapsed quicker than Boston could. They suffered through injuries (Wakefield, Dice-K, Lowell, etc.) & underperforming seasons (Ortiz, Pedroia, Bay, Varitek, etc.) across the board. Bottom line: they didn't have it this season. It wasn't close.

But you know what was even more disappointing? It didn't seem like they cared. How quick was that Red Sox dugout cleared out after the game was over? I saw Jason Bay give what looked like a cursory, token "blank stare out to the field watching the other team celebrate." That's about it. I'm not the only one who noticed this. I'm almost certain that it's this that motivated The Sports Guy to say this after the Game 2 loss: "If you're expecting me to throw remotes, punch walls & go for 2-hour dog walks for this lifeless '09 Sox team, think again."

Because this group didn't care. Not like those Angels cared; that much was very plain. And certainly not like the fans cared. My Lord... Red Sox fans sell out games & buy merchandise at a rate that would juice the economy if it happened in the cities of the other 29 MLB teams. If any fanbase has ever loved their team & blindly rooted for laundry, it is Red Sox fans. But, as the movie line goes, did the Red Sox love them back? I say no.

I've been having this on-going conversation with some Braves fans, too. The Braves have this new General Manager who is tarnishing the once good name of the Atlanta franchise. He's offending Hall of Famers left and right. He's botching deals, as he did last offseason with Rafael Furcal. He over-spent to nab Derek Lowe because he mis-read the market, thought there would be better pitching available, and panicked to bring in the best remaining option. Mark my words (Dan!): given more time, Frank Wren is going to run the Braves into the ground.

Little do Braves fans recognize this, though. Oh, the die-hards are convinced that next year is their year. As hard as I've tried to convince them of their GM's folly -- of his poor record doing business, of his strange signings -- they're convinced that Wren out-paces every other GM in baseball. Really. And they've invested their hopes & dreams into this guy who is leading them off a cliff.

So since when is rooting for those teams a measure of someone's devotion? Sounds sick to me. Pouring your care into a careless team. Investing your hopes in a hopeless franchise. It is folly I say.

Just ask a Green Bay Packers fan. Ask them what it's like to love a player like a son, only to see him rip your heart in the most careless, disloyal way imaginable. What's that like? Thankfully we were enlightened, courtesy Bill Simmons:

Question: I am 19 years old. I have been a fan of Favre and the Packers since the third grade. I grew up thinking Favre could do no wrong. As a mature 17-year-old, I cried the day he retired from the Packers. I was tolerant of the Jets experiment -- even have the jersey to prove it. But what am I supposed to do now? Tonight I watched my childhood hero stomp all over the team and the fans he represented for 16 years. I found myself cursing him for the very same reasons I used to love him. The phony TD celebrations, the smug smiles, the way he hams it up with his new teammates and his new fans. I don't know how to handle it. I started this e-mail thinking I had something to say about all of this, but I just feel lost. I don't know what to think anymore ... I'm just lost.
--Drew, Bloomington, Ind.

Simmons: And that's the part of Monday's game that got lost. Every Packers fan felt like how a dutiful wife would feel if she stuck with her husband through thick and thin, watched him become a success, then got dumped for a younger trophy wife who also happened to be her archnemesis. Favre failed in the same way Roger Clemens failed when he signed with the Blue Jays in 1997 -- his problems with management affected his feelings toward his old franchise, and he did a piss-poor job of letting his old fan base know that he still cared about it. I have written about this before, but I turned on Clemens during his Toronto news conference when he simply refused to acknowledge Boston fans beyond a few generic words. It hurt. I took it personally and decided he was an opportunistic, disloyal, dishonest scumbag from that moment on. And as it turned out, he was.

In Favre's case, his lack of empathy for Packers fans has been really alarming. I know he plays with his heart on his sleeve. I know he's a "kid out there" and "having a ball out there" and all the crap. And maybe he's not a brain surgeon, but he's smart enough to understand what he meant to Packers fans and the state of Wisconsin, which means he had to understand how it went over after he (A) signed with an NFC North team two months ago; (B) dialed up the finger-pointing and fist-pumping during Monday's Pack-Vikes game so egregiously that even his biggest fan fron Green Bay couldn't defend him; and (C) gave that self-satisfied postgame interview in which he never said anything like, "I just wanted to say hi to everyone back in Wisconsin and tell them that this was as strange for me as it probably was for you, but I want you to know that it was just one game -- a game that I wanted to win because I'm a competitor and I love my teammates, but still, none of this changes the fact that I love you guys and I always will." That's it. That's all he had to say to Michele Tafoya after the game.

He didn't say it.

And believe me, I've been there as a fan. It's unforgivable. Especially when you're under 30 and don't realize that many of your "heroes" are people who don't deserve that level of worship, or any worship, for that matter. They just play sports well. They don't care about you. They care about themselves and that's it. If this realization hits you at the wrong time in your life, it can be hard. (I know it was hard for me. I took the Clemens thing personally, as witnessed by the fact that I once wrote a column wondering if he was the Antichrist.) So if the Packers fans want to play along, so to speak, then they can't cheer Favre on Nov. 1. He set the stakes. He made it clear that he's moved on with his new team and cut all ties to the old one. That means you need to go to Lambeau and boo the living hell out of him. Make him miserable. Rattle him. Flummox him. Do everything you can to get the better of him for three hours. This man does not belong to you anymore, and maybe, he never did.

Wow. Truth is sobering, isn't it?

You know what, let's call it: Hosea was a SICK man. There's a reason that his is an awkward story to tell in Church. Marrying a prostitute? Expecting her to remain as faithful & pure as he was? That's like Favre fanhood to the extreme. Which, I mean, for Hosea, is just unimaginable the amount of grief & pain & sorrow he had to wrestle with so often. ONLY God is capable of executing that kind of love and faithfulness. Not us. And that's the point of the book. It's right there in chapter 11 verse 9:

I will not carry out my fierce anger,
       nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.
       For I am God, and not man—
       the Holy One among you.
       I will not come in wrath

Only God can do that. I mean, it'd drive a man insane to love to that degree of passion & have it not returned.

In fact, in terms of Scriptures that are a model, I default to Psalms 22 on this one. That Psalm where David just opens up on God without any pretense: "My God My God, why have you forsaken me?" It's like he's saying, "Hey Father... this situation I'm in right now -- this is really awful. I'd like to tell you how very awful I think it is." And David goes on to describe his plight in detail. He wrestles with ideas like God's faithfulness, and his own worthiness, and several other similar worries that we all have anxiety over when we're in the midst of trial.

But you know what: if David were being measured by the people who measure fanhood in 21st century America, the man after God's own heart would be only a fair-weather follower.

And I say that's rubbish. David was wallowing in his pessimism, but at least he was taking it to the right place. David was keeping it real, but he wasn't quitting God. He wasn't going down to some Baal or Molek to offer his worship there. He was taking it to God & dumping the full load with HIM: in all it's gritty, unpolished glory.

And here's the point I want to stress to a certain doubter of my fanhood: I'm not putting pinstripes on over here. Just because I can spot an apathetic loser when I see one doesn't mean that I'm leaving Red Sox Nation. I'm staying true to my team. But in doing that, I'm not losing the ability to stay true to myself.

I want to offer as a model of honorable fair weather fanhood my cousin Jason. I have to admit: I'm biased. I love this guy. He's one of my favorite people in the world to spend time around. And that for lots of reasons that I'll spare you from me listing here.

One of the greatest things about Jay, though, is his passion. It comes through so clear on the golf course. When he hits a bad shot, it kills him. Every time. And when he's squared off trying to compete against his brother Barry, it kills him double. Jason is a passionate guy.

This passion comes out in funny ways as it relates to his beloved Crimson Tide, too. I'll never forget the referees running out of the stadium -- running right by he & I -- at the tail end of the 1997 'Bama/Mississippi State game. Alabama had been conquered that day, and Jason wasn't in a good mood. So he taunted those referees. And don't worry: Jason's Mormon, he kept it clean. He just let them know that they SUCKED on that day. ;) And if you ask him about it today, he will work himself into just as much of a frenzy as he was in at that moment.

Oh, and there's also the time where he almost picked a fight after a win. It was October 2nd, 1999. Alabama had just defeated the #3 Florida Gators. IN the Swamp, where the Gators hadn't lost a game in 5 whole years. It was a high moment in all our lives. We felt like kings walking back across campus in our crimson polo shirts. That is, until someone dared taunt the kings. Some drunk guy started heckling us with, "You guys suck! You don't even know what top 5 is!!" Well, Jason isn't the type to turn the other cheek at that. "Hey loser!!... We just beat you IN YOUR OWN HOUSE!" Well, this drunk guy kept following us. And Jason kept not backing down. Until finally we've walked up to this guy's fraternity house, and Jason is standing out on the front lawn red-faced yelling at this clown. He was just about to follow the guy into his FRATERNITY HOUSE. We literally grabbed him to pull him out of that spot & back to my apartment.

I hope you'll believe me when I tell you that Jay is a passionate man. And so, just like his errant shots on the golf course, it kills him a little inside each time Alabama loses. And having a decade like Alabama had from 1997-2007, with 2 separate probations and 3 losing seasons, it was almost enough to crush his spirit.

But Jason figured it out toward the end of the Tide's decade of futility. Whenever 'Bama played, he just went to play golf. I couldn't believe it! This guy who loves Alabama football more than I've ever loved anything in my life. I gave him a hard time about it. How could he do it? Well, for one thing, he taped all the games. And he had a simple rule. When he got home, he'd ask his wife who won. If Alabama won, he'd watch the tape. If Alabama lost, the tape was tossed.

Lots of tapes were tossed.

But Jason made a simple realization about life that I hope each one of you will adopt: He was too passionate to put up with mediocrity. His heart was too big, his love was too strong, and the object of his affection was too small for him to continue down the path of experiencing one heart-wrenching loss after another. So he made that simple calculation: "It's not worth it."

And danged if he's not right! Sports isn't worth it. Sports is never worth it. That is, not when the "it" is putting up with rampant mediocrity & disappointment.

It's as Solomon wrote in Proverbs 4:23 -- "Guard your heart with all diligence, for out of it flows the wellspring of life." I don't know why we subject our hearts to so much anguish over such trivial matters. It reminds me of how C.S. Lewis famously put it:

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

You know what I recommend to Florida State fans right now? Go play golf! Go savor the good things in life. Seek out fair weather wherever it may be found in your life. If in the Noles won, then fire up that DVR and enjoy the show. If they lost, then forget about it. It's JUST football.

Why is that so hard for people to say? "It's just football." "It's just baseball." I'm convinced that it's hard because we wrap our sense of self-worth & personal pride in our sports tribe of choice. So that when the tribe succeeds, it's like we succeed. But when the tribe fails, it's just as if we failed.

And, to me, that's sickening. It's just revolting. Because when your fanhood becomes THAT, it's tantamount to idol worship. And so we then begin to measure someone's virtue -- someone's loyalty -- by their mindless, automaton-like sense of devotion to a sports team? How poor a measure is that!

I've got an idea: How about we try measuring people's virtue & loyalty by things that really matter? Like how well they love their wives. Or how well they raise their kids. Or how healthy they grow their puppies? Or how green they keep their lawns? Even over months & months of oppressive heat!

(That's right: it's all about me here)

I'm not saying just to go root for winners. Definitely don't do that. That's not fanhood. That's being a front-runner. No, don't be like the louses that I grew up with who were fans of the Seminoles, Cowboys, and Bulls. Please. Don't go changing teams.

But here's what I am saying: choose to go enjoy the good weather wherever good weather may be found. That's what I'm doing. It's a High Tide in Alabama. That's why you have to put up with my obnoxious "Power 12" rankings every week. Because I am as into that as President Obama is into being on the TV!! A baseball playoffs commercial on TBS? Really, Mr. President?

So may you enjoy the good weather wherever that good weather may be found. It'll do your heart some good to enjoy the crisp purity of refreshing air in some other slice of life. Because too much of the rest of life is bad weather. Why put up with it in your hobbies & recreation? I mean, there are more important things in life than a sports franchise that deserve that from you which is precious above all else: your devotion & your loyalty. So may you find fair weather spaces in your life to invest your heart where it's safe & where it's rewarded.

And, while we're at it, may the good Lord bless me with some cool Fall air. Please?

The Charm of the Unowned

What is it with the seduction of the unowned?

I know I'm not the only person to recognize this. Maybe it's the skill of marketers plying their trade. Maybe it's an innate craving always for "just a little bit more." Or maybe it's that the item on the shelf actually IS better than the item already in possession at home. Whatever the case, there is a strong attraction to have more even when we're in plenty.

Just the other night, I'm driving home from Bible Study at church on a cold Wednesday night when the craving for a sweet treat hits. Starbucks is right on the way home, and their Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate is SO good. I resisted, though, because I knew I had milk & hot chocolate mix at home -- I didn't need to blow an extra $4 on that Starbucks hot chocolate.

THEN I began to think about Chick-Fil-A's Vanilla Milkshake. So good. There's nothing else like it. It didn't matter that it was 35 degrees outside -- it still sounded good to me. It didn't need to make sense -- it just felt right!

Thus began the tug-of-war with myself. The sensible me began to lecture myself about not wasting money, and already having hot chocolate mix at home, and how that made more sense on a cold night anyway. It was a battle. My truck could have easily steered it's way home or to Chick-Fil-A.

Why?! Why is the Chick-Fil-A milkshake so much more attractive than the hot chocolate at home? If I could whip a similar milkshake up in my kitchen in 2 minutes, I doubt it would have the same appeal as the one they hand me out of the drive-thru window at Chick-Fil-A. Why am I so seduced by what I don't already have?

It's like going to the bookstore and seeing (and smelling) all of those fresh, new books. And I forget about those "other books" that I used to be excited about, too. You know -- the ones that seduced me on the shelf, before I purchased them, marched home with them triumphantly, and then sat them on my shelf at home to display as a trophy (to what, I don't know... to my knowledge base? To my personal pride? To my taste in book covers?... there's no telling...), only never to be opened again. What is with that? That's pathological!

Thankfully, my car maneuvered it's way home where I made myself a hot chocolate. And I tried to talk my heart into believing that it was satisfying & fulfilling. But there still wasn't that thrill -- that RUSH -- of gathering something new.

I wish I could get my heart & my mind to sync up on this issue. And on several other issues, as well.

Who Are You Talking To?

Here's a little tip for those of you who aren't regular public speakers. And for those of you who are, a reminder. To speak in appropriate ways, you have to be mindful of your audience & your occasion.

For example, I'm disappointed with how Rick Warren used the Invocation last Tuesday:


I love Rick Warren. I've got one major/minor quibble with him, but all-in-all I think he is a good minister & an outstanding ministry model. But I was disappointed with how he used the occasion of leading a prayer to preach a mini-sermon. It was inappropriate, because that's not what he was there to do. He was there to lead a prayer. Nevertheless, there were more than just a couple of moments where he appeared to be speaking less to God & more to the millions of on-lookers.

My sister & father both picked up on this, and expressed their distaste for how he used that platform in that moment. I'm especially disappointed when I consider how controversial his appointment was, and how to many people this will be their only exposure to Pastor Rick. How sad that many of them came away with a bitter taste because they felt like he preached to them in an uninvited way.

I was reminded of that moment from last week when I saw this video posted on John Piper's blog:


Now, I understand speaking to someone not in the audience as a rhetorical tool. But having it recorded, cropping the clip to that precise moment, then posting it on YouTube and your blog for the world to see? John Piper wasn't preaching to his congregation; he was taking advantage of his platform to try to send a message to the President. All he'll actually accomplish, in fact, is inflaming & emboldening his supporters.

And BTW, I like John Piper. Just as I like Rick Warren. But, in my view, that was inappropriate.

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Anyway, the point is to be mindful of your audience & your occasion. Who are you speaking to? Why are you invited to speak there? What can you realistically seek to accomplish with that moment? In my mind, one of the largest sins of public speaking is speakers not spending time with those questions.

I hear so many preachers speaking to themselves instead of to their audience. And then they tell you that, too: "I'm not really speaking to anyone here as much as I'm speaking to myself." Well -- and I'm gonna be blunt here -- you weren't invited to preach for self-flagellation. That moment is bigger than YOU! Your mission is to bring a Word from God to your audience. Now, I understand that your personal temptations & pitfalls are likely temptations & pitfalls for others in your church family. But if you're using the occasion of preaching as your own personal catharsis, you have more work to do in the sermon preparation process to get beyond that obstacle before you preach to others about it.

I also get annoyed when I hear an ideological preacher before his identically ideological church build up a straw man of the opposite ideology in his midst & burn it down. What does that accomplish? Who are you preaching to? Does your audience receive any challenge out of seeing you bash the conservatives? Does it help them grow? Does it advance anything?

Or even in writing. Liberal-bashing in the Spiritual Sword is so shopworn. Same goes with conservative-bashing over at Cope's blog. Really -- WHAT is the point? Do those writings further anything?

Anyway, you'll do better in speaking & writing if you are mindful of your audience and your occasion. As the man who first taught me to preach called it, your milieu.

Black Coaches in College Football

I wrote a little diatribe today over at "Saints, Sinners, & Sports" today about African-American coaches & college athletics. Really, it's more about how the media loves to let the University of Alabama be it's whipping boy. Go have a look.

REVIEW: Ben Stein's "Expelled"

Just Watched:
Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed

My Rating:
4½ Stars


I'm just stunned.

Ben Stein has put together an excellent documentary about the eclipse of academic freedom in America, especially with regard to the issue of the origin of species. With engaging interviews & startling facts, Stein goes on a journey to show how scientists who simply acknowledge (not even *subscribe* to the theory -- just ACKNOWLEDGE) the viability of the intelligent design theory are becoming victims of a systematic effort to supress alternative perspetives to Darwinian Evolutionism. With a skillful weaving of current events & images of totalitarian regimes past, Ben Stein makes a strong case that the supression of ideas is a barrier to scientific freedom as the Berlin Wall was a barrier to personal German liberty for many years. He also takes time to show the fruits of the evolutionary theory of origins by connecting the thinking with Nazi Eugenics programs.

It's just an excellent documentary. I'm amazed at the awful reviews Stein's documentary received. They simply serve as further evidence of the existence of a kind of conspiratorial cabal for the mainstream worldview of the future. And Ben Stein just furthers my deep aversion for public figures of anti-religion such as Bill Maher & Richard Dawkins.

What "Expelled" further does for me is highlight a troubling trend in 21st century culture: unknowable truth resulting from the reign of bias. What do I mean? Personally, I am unnervingly frustrated that I have no idea what to think about the idea of global warming. If you think global warming exists, then you must be a Democrat; and if you think global warming is a farce, then you must be a Republican. Each political party has their own set of scientists & "scientific" conclusions. How can a person even form an objective opinion?

As a moderate thinker, I have a difficult time with the veneration of the subjective. I listen to right-leaning people wring their hands over ACORN & people who would manipulate our political system by saturating the vote with illegal votes. And then I listen to left-leaning people wring their hands over voter suppression or the idea that electronic voting is not trustworthy -- people in positions of high influence who would manipulate our political system by fixing the numbers. And you know what -- each side is ONLY concerned with the pety notion that the other side will gain an unfair advantage! What I want to know is this: WHERE IS THE OUTRAGE OVER THE PURITY OF OUR POLITICAL SYSTEM?!? It's nowhere to be found! No one cares, because each side only cares for itself.

This development of a highly-polarized culture is intellectually dishonest. And that is at the heart of Ben Stein's documentary: the idea that people place their worldview before science, or objective investigation. Such as happened with the poor kids involved in the Duke lacrosse rape case -- "well, they fit profile, so let's book 'em & get it over with." Placing your worldview ahead of your investigative pursuit leaves you living in a fantasy world of your own construct -- it's not reality. And it's frustrating to people like me, especially if (like in the issue that this documentary explores) you're not even allowed to ask questions from an alternative perspective.

Well, I got lost in my own diatribe there. But you should see this documentary. And then you should go sign the Academic Freedom Petition as Ben Stein urges people to in the extra's on the DVD. "Liberty & justice for all" -- that would be a nice direction for America I think...

Steinbrenner. As Usual.

Eleven months ago, Joe Torre's contract was up & the offer that Hank Steinbrenner delivered was essentially a slap in the face. Everybody saw the writing on the wall: the Yankees had had enough of Torre, and were ready to move on. The only reason he received that piddling offer at all was simply a politically-strategic tip of the cap by Hank to what Torre had done to bring 4 World Series titles in his tenure.

Here we are almost a full year later. The Torre-led Dodgers (currently holding an 83-76 record in a competitively weak division) have clinched a playoff berth. The Torre-less Yankees (with an 87-72 record in what is widely-considered the toughest division in baseball) have been eliminated from the playoffs.

So what's a Steinbrenner to do? Hank's father, George, would make sweeping changes, take verbal pot-shots, and generally look foolish & inadequate in his attempts to defend his own massive ego. However, according to the media & sports talk radio, Hank is DIFFERENT! He's more calculating; he's SMARTER! He won't repeat the mistakes of his father, and he is the agent of change to oversee a new reign of Yankee dominance in the coming years.

Too bad that's just a fallacious fantasy. Hank has already demonstrated that George's same insecure blood runs through his Yankee blue-blooded veins. ESPN's Page2 writer Jim Caple seems to have a skill for lampooning the Steinbrenners, as he did with this hillarious column back in the spring. To me, it came close to topping his famous "Praise Steinbrenner" column (starring the former Iraqi information minister, Mohammad Saeed Al-Sahhaf) from several years back.

So how has Hank responded this week to Joe's success coupled with his own franchise's failure? From an article attributed to him in the Sporting News (thanks to The Newark Star-Ledger):

• On revenue sharing: "That's a system I don't particularly like. It's a socialist system, and I don't agree with it. Does it work? It depends on your point of view. But is it right? Is it even American? I'd argue no on both of those points."

• On the divisional setup: "... If you want to talk about things that infuriate me about the game today, revenue sharing doesn't top the list. The biggest problem is the divisional setup in major league baseball. I didn't like it in the 1970s, and I hate it now. Baseball went to a multidivision setup to create more races, rivalries and excitement. But it isn't fair. You see it this season, with plenty of people in the media pointing out that Joe Torre and the Dodgers are going to the playoffs while we're not. This is by no means a knock on Torre -- let me make that clear--but look at the division they're in. If L.A. were in the A.L. East, it wouldn't be in the playoff discussion. The A.L. East is never weak."

• On Joe Torre: "I'm happy for Joe, but you have to compare the divisions and the competition. What if the Yankees finish the season with more wins than the Dodgers but the Dodgers make the playoffs? Does that make the Dodgers a better team? No."

• On his case for the divisional setup not being good for the game: "Go back to the 2006 season. St. Louis winning the World Series -- that was ridiculous. The Cardinals won their division with 83 wins -- two fewer than the Phillies, who missed the postseason. People will say the Cardinals were the best team because they won the World Series. Well, no, they weren't. They just got hot at the right time. They didn't even belong in the playoffs. And neither does a team from the N.L. West this season."

• On the media: "The divisional setup is not right by any definition of logic. But the sports media rarely deals with logic -- so you never read about this."

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

I like what Bud Poliquin had to say:

Now, does Steinbrenner have a point to make when he declares the eight best squads in baseball don't necessarily comprise the postseason field? Well, yeah. But so what? That has forever been the case whether we're talking the NCAA Tournament's 65 teams (hello, Syracuse University, in 2007), the NBA playoffs (greetings, Golden State, just this spring), the NFL postseason (where some wretched group from the NFC West will qualify later this winter) and so on and so forth.

Baseball? The geographical gods can giveth (as they have forever done to the Yankees, who enjoy the vast revenue streams generated by the kind of dense population that, oh, Kansas City will never see) and they can taketh away (which they've done for so long now to the Jays and Orioles, to name just two cursed franchises). And [those geographical gods] can do so without having to consult with Henry Steinbrenner, despite what Henry might think.

Yeah, certain things are unfair, all right. And George's son ought to be thankful because if he'd been sired by, say, a short-order cook (not there's anything wrong with that) as opposed to a ship-building magnate, he might be flipping a burger even now.

Ouch. Put simply: "Just hush up, Hank."

Of course I hope my Red Sox win it all this October. But if they or the Rays happen to fall to Torre's Dodgers this October, I will enjoy the heck out of Joe Torre making Hank Steinbrenner look like an absolute fool.

Shallow Prayer

Today, a thinking out loud blog entry that randomly jumps from one ranting lily pad to the next...

Is there a way that we could better improve our prayer networks in church?

The traditional way of doing prayer in a corporate way is just wrought with so much... ugh. I can't even really put a word on it. It doesn't feel sincere, or authentic. And it always feels so short-sighted.

I've noticed for awhile, and never said anything, about how our prayer lists in our church bulletins are merely laundry lists of folks in ill health & their afflictions. Is this all that we can think of to pray about?

I do understand that this is part of the culture of older folks. Older folks generally sit around sharing with one another their long history of ailments & giving detailed explanations of their treatments & doctor's visits. I wish they wouldn't include their preacher in their often thorough & long-winded medical treatises, but that's a little bit of a different issue... ;)

(I know, I know... I'm so insensitive)

When we come to our large group of worship, often the best way to describe our "families of believers" is by calling us "familiar strangers." We don't very well get to a place where we can pray in specificity for one another's needs because we can't get comfortable enough in large settings to deal with those kinds of big, personal issues. So all we're really comfortable praying about is our health. Maybe the weather, too, if there's a hurricane looming.

But I'm not necessarily interested in getting into a polemic over why all churches should do small groups. :) In general, I think that there are bigger things that we could be praying about besides all of our boo-boo's. That's an indelicate way to put it, I know, but there are weightier matters to pray about. I wonder about how myopic & narcissistic we appear when so many of the corporate prayers that we offer are about healing our bodies in this temporal existence.

And corporate prayer is important. I'm convinced that many young folks, and especially new converts, learn how to pray by listening to public prayers in worship. And when I listen to these newer folks pray, they're often the most anxious over including all the right phrases in just the right order. So that it seems that we are in the business of breeding generations of Christians who pray artificial prayers whose only concern is their cosmetic appeal to the ear.

I guess what I'm interested in is hearing some fresh ideas that bring authenticity back to prayer en ekklesia. If you have any to offer, I'm all ears. Or if you can turn me onto a resource or two that has helped your ministry "do prayer" better, that'd be great too.

Sense of Entitlement

I haven't written anything in a couple of days. There's no reason for that in particular. I just haven't. So I thought I'd comment on THIS GUY.

No one should take joy in anyone losing their job. But I'm glad to see some punishment for that former officer. Brazen sense of entitlement is conceited & ugly.

A Red Sox Fan's Worst Nightmare

It is a sad reality that winning sports franchises attract bandwagon fans. Perhaps nowhere has this despicable phenomenon been realized more this decade than with the over-indulgent lust for the now-media-darling Boston Red Sox.

Whenever I hear people complain about the ridiculous amount of Sox love in the media, at the theaters, or in the All-Star voting (come to think of it... actually, Jordan, I think its just you...), I don't have much sympathy. Because, you see, we Red Sox fans climbed an extreme incline to get to where we are today. We paid a steep price. You see, for those of us who didn't just hop on the bandwagon within the last four years -- before the momentous comeback for the ages against the Yankees & the fulfilling sweep against the Cardinals in the Series -- people forget what we were.

We were Red Sox fans.

It was ugly, even though it had its redeeming charm. It was shameful, even though there was some perverted element of honor. It was utterly heartbreaking to be teased, tormented, and trampled upon in the horrific fashion that seemingly only the Red Sox could script. I'm not sure I can offer enough hyperbole to make this point ring true. It was brutal. It was masochistic. It was like passionately rooting to take a sucker punch to the gut.

And that is why my worst nightmare for this coming October would be to see the Red Sox make it to the World Series to face the Chicago Cubs.

Here's the deal. Our franchises had at one point been linked as both being star-crossed. But the meta-narrative wasn't really the same. The Red Sox would come tantalizingly close to glory, only they would quite magnificently snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. The Cubs, on the other hand, just lost all the time & never gave their fans any hope at all.

So is it better to have loved & lost than to have never loved at all???

Not according to an old college chum of mine named Eric, who (being a life-long Cubs fan) stated definitively that the Cubs' 2003 NLCS Bartman-induced epic collapse was much worse & much more heart-breaking than having never really come close to glory before.

And it got even worse for Cubs fans after that '03 debacle. They watched the Red Sox leave their class of "lovable losers" after the '04 World Series victory -- their first in 86 years. Not only that, but they watched their crosstown rival Chicago White Sox exorcise their own demons by winning the 2005 World Series -- their first in 88 years. And that wasn't the end of it. In 2006, they watched their hated division-rival St. Louis Cardinals come out of nowhere to win their franchise's 10th World Championship. Sadly the bleeding didn't even stop there, because in 2007 the former fraternal Boston Red Sox took a step toward dynasty-hood by winning their 2nd World Series in 4 years.

Honestly, the worst kind of torture is watching everyone else around you be blessed when you're not. Right? Always the bridesmaid; never the bride... that kind of deal. David writes about it in Psalms 22:2-6 -- "Come on, God... You're enthroned as 'The Praise of Israel' ... I've heard about these other Godly people who obeyed you and were blessed! Why not me? Why do I have to run for my life from Saul when I'm trying to do the right thing here?!" That's the gist of David's complaint anyway. And its one of the saddest that there is.

So that is why when I read some so-called "Sox fan" (no doubt a bandwagon-jumping dullard) write on a message board that their dream World Series this year was Sox/Cubs, I almost came unglued. I was so offended that I felt the need to write this diatribe about it. ("Stuff White People Like" entry STILL funny!) Either that person is a sadist, or (more likely) he doesn't understand the grief a Red Sox-induced World Series loss for the Cubs would feel like for long suffering Chicago fans.

Obviously, it would not be pleasant for Red Sox fans if Boston lost a World Series. There is little redeeming value in losing that way. But it would be almost equally joyless to defeat the Cubs to win it all. Because true Red Sox fans know that such a victory would make the transformation complete. We would then BE the New York Yankees: a franchise & fanbase that delighted in trampling less worthy franchises underfoot for the sake of some kind of baseball manifest destiny.

The hype is already there. It is 2008 -- precisely 100 years since the last Cubs World Championship. The Cubs are in first place in their division, and they just traded for an ace pitcher who could take them to the promised land. Poor Cubs fans are already getting set up for the heartbreak to end all heartbreaks.

Please God don't let this happen. Don't let the Cubs & the Red Sox both make the World Series this year. I can't take the pain...

A Rush to Outrage

The Church of Christ blogosphere has been "abuzz" (that's putting it lightly... some were practically frothing at the mouth!) in the last 36 hours over the news that Harding Professor Mark Elrod's blog is going private. Mike Cope wondered out loud whether Harding University has any sense of academic integrity. My buddy Bob mourned the loss of an internet locale where open dialogue was allowed to flourish. Harding Professor Frank McCown noted that this is an example of how speaking on controversial topics inevitably brings out the yahoo's. And this guy I don't know blasted the Harding administration, but then retracted his scathing rebuke.

So, clearly, I add my commentary on this issue at the risk of saturating the web with more conversation about the seemingly insignificant development of a blogger deciding to be more selective about who reads his writing. Nevertheless, I have some things to say.

I'm troubled that we live in an era of sensationalized news. It disturbs me that we allow larger voices (whether famous bloggers, talk radio hosts, or even news organizations) dictate to us what we should get upset about. We wring our hands over Senator Obama not wearing a flag pin on his lapel or John McCain deciding not to work on weekends. And sometimes this rush to outrage affects lives, as it did with Duke Lacrosse Rape Case.

I'm as guilty of this as anyone. I let myself get lathered into a rage and can write critically & harshly about a subject as if the world is coming to an end. Go look up the blog label "My Diatribes" and there are plenty of examples of this.

I wonder what fuels this rage, in me and in others. I wonder if this misplaced anger is just angst over our discontent with the present -- with moral depravity & the long wait for the fulfillment of God's Kingdom. At least one blog humorously pondered that it may be sociological. At "Stuff White People Like," someone posited that Being Offended is a unique characteristic among Caucasians. An excerpt:

[...] many people develop a thick skin and try to only be offended in the most egregious and awful situations. In many circumstances, they can allow smaller offenses to slip by as fighting them is a waste of time and energy. But white people, blessed with both time and energy, are not these kind of people. In fact there are few things white people love more than being offended.

O, satire... how unveiling you can be!

I'm not saying we should never get upset. Ecclesiastes 3 teaches us that there is a time for all things. Righteous indignation has its place. But I find it supremely important that we be sober in our wrath. We would be wise to heed James' suggestion that we "Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry." Some of the comments in Mike Cope's blog were fiercely critical of Harding University. Though Preacher Mike is often tempered in the words he uses about the more conservative element of our fellowship, it appears that the comments section of his blog is a haven for a more caustic brand of hypercritical talk. And even though Dr. Elrod issued a statement on his blog explaining that he chose to do this & was not forced to do so by his academic employer, Harding remains slandered.

I often think about those Duke Lacrosse players & the stigma they will live with for the rest of their lives. Their employers will always wonder if the men they hired really were rapists. And how about their wives? Won't there always be some lingering, remnant doubt that maybe, just maybe, the men they sleep with really did rape those girls?

Outrage-induced stigmas don't just go away...

Obama doesn't wear a flag pin on his lapel! Despicable! (Translation: Obama is not patriotic. And that stigma won't go away no matter how often the Senator wears a flag pin between now and the end of his life)

McCain doesn't work on weekends! Doesn't he realize what's at stake?! (Translation: McCain is old and has lost his work ethic. And that stigma will remain in the back of people's minds between now and the election)

And Mark Elrod is making his blog private! Harding should be ashamed! (Translation: Harding is like Big Brother & doesn't really care about institutional integrity. And that stigma will continue to stick with people when they remember this event months from now)

Thus are the casualties of a rush to outrage. The words people write, the opinions people form -- you can't un-ring that bell.

And these "offenses" ... are they really that egregious? Are they THAT despicable? One of the early creeds of our creed-less Restoration Movement was that we wanted to "speak where the Bible speaks, and be silent where the Bible is silent." I've used that as a guide in my own theological dabbling by thinking that "I want to make a big deal out of issues that the Bible makes a big deal about, and I don't want to make a big deal out of issues that the Bible doesn't make a big deal about." In a news culture that sensationalizes small issues and rushes render judgment, I think we would all do well to take a step back, examine ourselves, and carefully consider what is really steering our passions on a given subject.

Otherwise, we all become drops in an ocean of mob mentality. And we become pawns for the personal ambitions of immorally manipulative people -- useful idiots for their selfish purposes. Pray that we wouldn't resign ourselves to that sort of existence.

How Do You Treat Reckless Drivers?

So, about a half hour ago, I had just followed my sister to drop off her car for an oil change, and we were headed up a highway in town to go grab lunch at Chick-Fil-A. This highway (HWY 77 here in Panama City) is a 4-lane road, and on this particular stretch there is a middle turn lane and a "6th" lane on the right that is for turning into a number of restaurants, hotel, & flower shop on the right. Its sort of a strange constant turn lane.

From time to time, I'll be driving this stretch of road, and people will turn into that lane to turn right at the upcoming intersection (which is about 300 yards away) & speed up. Not only does it selfishly hog the turn lane for those who have to wait before they can get in the lane, slow down, & turn, but it is an accident waiting to happen with someone who will get ready to slow down & turn without seeing the person barreling down the turn lane at 45 MPH.

Well, this happened today. My sister & I are driving along in the right lane, doing about 35 MPH in a 45 MPH zone -- traffic was heavy, and gas prices are rather high for me to be doing a lot of accelerating. All of a sudden, this SUV turns into the right turn lane & speeds up. It starts accelerating & passes us doing at least 45 MPH in this turn lane (maybe higher, but I don't want to sound like I'm exaggerating).

So I went into diatribe mode with my poor, captive-audience sister -- "that's so selfish," blah blah, "and that's how accidents happen," yackity schmackity. You know...

And, all of a sudden, she turns right where we're going to turn. And when I finally turn there, I see that she's right in the Chick-Fil-A line that we were going to get in. And right as I pull up behind her, she rolls her window down to pour some ice out of a cup.

WELL! That's enough of an opening for me.

So I roll down my window, and I yell, "HEY!!" I wait for her to poke her head out of the window, and I holler, "That's NOT a passing lane!!"

She starts going, "Awww, gimme a break!"

And I said, "THAT is how accidents happen!!"

She says, "F@#& YOU!" And then gave me the finger. She ordered, and as she was pulling up, gave me the finger again.

As we pulled out of Chick-Fil-A, we took a short cut to go back to get Katie's car. All of a sudden, we pass this business where we see that car & that woman getting out of it. So I honked the horn at her a couple times. I didn't care to look back to see if she "responded."

My general working philosophy is this: people need to know when they've done something idiotic. And I don't mind being that guy who confronts them to let them know that what they did was stupid. If have to shame them with my horn, or my words, so be it.