Planet RMFO Blog

Over the past two weeks’ political conventions I have watched most of the major speeches and then headed to my computer to check Twitter, the blogs, news sites, and online forum that I frequent. What has astonished me these past two weeks is the amount of bitter, vitriolic tone that has come not from the politicians (where I expect it) but from supporters of both sides.

Now, I’m not talking about people complaining bitterly about the other side misrepresenting their candidate’s positions (which both sides do). I’m not talking about people finding creative ways to describe their opponents’ apparent inexperience or lack of qualifications. (Both sides do it, and both have their share of inexperience.)

I’m not talking about people you’d expect the worst from, people like Hannity and Limbaugh on the right and The Huffington Post and The Daily Kos on the left. I’ve done my best to tune all of them out for a while now.

I’m talking about Christians. People who I know are good, kind people. The kind of people you’d want to sit down and have a beer with and discuss life. The kind of people who you’d want serving in your church, ministering to you or your friend in need, teaching your kids in Sunday School. And these last two weeks the things I’ve heard and read from these folks have surprised me. Name-calling. Making fun of candidates for their “creepy laugh” or their funny accent or the way they dress. Things that they wouldn’t ever in a million years think of saying about a friend… or a visitor to their church… or someone they met on the street. But because that person is the current representative of a political view that they disagree with or fear, there seems to be no limit to the insults that can be hurled.

Professor and author Gene Veith today on his blog asks “Why the vitriol?” He asks, in part:

We’ve discussed controversial theological points and complex moral issues on this blog and stayed friendly. Why do we lose it when it comes to politics? There may be good reasons, but I’d like us to think about what they are.

With due respect, Professor, I’m not so sure about good reasons. In fact, I want to go a little further and say this:

It’s wrong.

If it would be wrong to make fun of your co-worker’s funny-sounding name, it’s wrong to make similar fun of Barack Obama.

If it would be wrong to derisively mock your neighbor’s creepy laugh, it’s wrong to mock John McCain’s.

If it would be sinfully unloving to deride the parent of an unwed teenage mother who visited your church last week, it’s just as sinful and unloving to deride Sarah Palin’s current circumstance.

Why do we think that because there’s a presidential election on that we’re suddenly exempt from 1 Peter 3?

Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. For,

“Whoever would love life
and see good days
must keep his tongue from evil
and his lips from deceitful speech.
He must turn from evil and do good;
he must seek peace and pursue it.
For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous
and his ears are attentive to their prayer,
but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.”

I’m not calling for the end of all political debate. I’m not saying that Christians shouldn’t have strong political views, or endorse candidates, or argue the issues.

But we should keep it to the issues. There are plenty to discuss and argue. If we listen instead of bluster, we might just learn something from the other guy, too.

So, friends, we shouldn’t be mocking John McCain because he has a weird smile and laugh. We shouldn’t be making fun of Barack Obama because he has (compared to recent political candidates) a strange-sounding name. We shouldn’t be deriding Sarah Palin because she sounds like an extra from Fargo. And all that jesting about Joe Biden’s hair plants? At least do it in good cheer.

Tags: christian living, politics

PLoS ONE: Lack of Association between Measles Virus Vaccine and Autism with Enteropathy: A Case-Control Study

A new study that demonstrates continued lack of association between the MMR vaccine and autism. This particular study is essentially a repeat of one down several decades ago. One of the co-authors on that old study is also a co-author on this study, and one of the labs used in that first study was also used in this study, to try to give it some credibility as truly trying to repeat the original study.

The original hypothesis was that the inactivated virus from the vaccine made its way to the gut, and caused a breakdown of some sort in the natural barrier that the gut is, and that something makes it way across the gut into the bloodstream, triggering/contributing/setting off autism.

This study appears to show no association between the MMR vaccine and anything in the gut or the onset of autism.

…I need a new blog theme. One that’s cleaner, less cluttered.

I really like the one that Geof is using over on gfmorris.com, but of course now that he’s using it I can’t just go pick it up and use it, too.

Any suggestions? Guess I’ll be looking around when I get some time.

Tags: web design

When I was in grad school the first time around, I had my binders and they were organized and I was on top of things. Now, I have never been the kind of person who is great at keeping paper organized (my desk, for example, is piles of papers, but I do know where everything is), but I had my binders and my color-coded tabs and I was decently organized.

This time, though? FAIL. I haven’t even bought a binder yet. I keep carrying around these huge piles of the articles I have printed off. The papers for my two classes are mixed together. It is an abomination. And I can’t seem to find the desire to do something about it. (I imagine I will find that desire right about the time I realize something is due and I had no idea about it. It would probably be good to find it before then if I can manage it.)

I am feeling better about my classes this week. Last week, what with the tornadoes and the rain and the being late, I left class and cried and cried. I told Mike I couldn’t do it. I really meant it, too. I don’t really say things like that, especially when it comes to school. But I did not believe I could do it. I considered dropping one of my classes. But I didn’t. I think I made the right decision. Last night as I was walking back to my car, I was relieved to feel much more like myself, the person who is not afraid to look these sorts of challenges in the face. Creating videos? I scoff at creating videos. Papers on asinine topics? Bring them on! I can do those with my eyes closed. Wasting my time? Well, I don’t love that so much. But I can deal with it.

As I was walking on the sidewalk on UNCG’s campus, a car going in the same direction stopped at a stoplight and began blasting the song “Bye Bye Bye.” On both sides of the street, spontaneous dancing broke out. People were reenacting the video and singing along. An ‘N Sync party! Right there on the street! (If we guess that these were 18-20 year olds, well, they were 10-12 when the song came out. I imagine many of them practiced those dance steps in their living rooms. Not that I have any experience in that sort of thing.) I may or may not have learned anything in my class, but I learned something there on the sidewalk: I need more spontaneous dancing in my life.

A warning to my casual readers: this post is going to get more than a wee bit nerdy, and probably a bit political, too.

OK, with that out of the way, let me note that one of the things that’s been bugging me ever since John McCain’s announcement of Sarah Palin as his VP choice last week is that while there’s been a veritable chorus describing her as “inexperienced” and “unqualified”, no one has really bothered to set down what they thought a VP’s experience should be. I had this discussion with a guy who is a big Obama supporter over on a forum I frequent, and even he was unwilling to suggest a criteria other than that it should be “the same as if they were running for president”.

I decided it was time to give myself a history lesson. How much experience, exactly, did our various candidates for president and vice president have? Geof suggested plotting that data against their presidential ratings to see how it panned out. So I did that, too. To bound the problem a little bit, I decided to limit my study to the more modern presidential era (starting with 1960). Then I headed off to Wikipedia to do some data collection.

The Setup

A person’s experience is, in some ways, difficult to quantify, but I settled on the following categories of experience:

• Years of college education (I also tracked whether it was Ivy League and whether they got a law degree)
• Years of military service
• Years in a state legislature
• Years as a state governor
• Years in other federal government service (i.e. cabinet or civil service positions)
• Years in Congress
• Years as Vice President
• Years as President

The tricky part, then, is how you choose to sum these up; let’s just agree that, for instance, years served as Vice President or as a governor are more valuable, year-for-year, than those served in the military or in a state legislature. I settled on some multipliers to try to help even things out. Feel free to argue over these if you want to.

• Years of college education (I also tracked whether it was Ivy League and whether they got a law degree) - 0.25
• Years of military service - 0.25
• Years in a state legislature - 0.25
• Years as a state governor - 1.0
• Years in other federal government service (i.e. cabinet or civil service positions) - 0.5
• Years in Congress - 0.75
• Years as Vice President - 1.0
• Years as President - 2.0

So, for example, George H. W. Bush, in 1984, had 4 years of college, 4 years in the military, 5 years in government service, 4 years in congress, and 4 years as VP. That gives him a score of ((4*0.25)+(4*0.25)+(5*0.5)+(4*0.75)+(4*1.0)) = 11.50.

With those multipliers in place it was easy enough to get Excel to do some sums and give me some totals. (You can download my spreadsheet here if you want to.)

What I found was fairly interesting.

The Data

The average experience score for a presidential candidate: 16.8.
The average experience score for a VP candidate: 12.9.

Highest score for a presidential candidate: 28.75, shared by Bob Dole in 1996 and Gerald Ford in 1976.
Highest score for a VP candidate: also 28.75, Joe Biden this year.

Lowest score for a presidential candidate: 5.25, Barack Obama, this year. (second lowest: George W. Bush’s 7.50 in 2000.)
Lowest score for a VP candidate: 3.00, Sarah Palin, this year. (second lowest: Spiro Agnew’s 3.75 in 1968.)

Highest POTUS/VP combined score: Dole/Kemp in 1996 (45.75)
Lowest POTUS/VP combined score: Reagan/Bush in 1980 (17.25)

So that’s a lot of data, how about some analysis?

Analysis

I did a plot of the experience ratings against some presidential performance ratings (as found here, which claim to be amalgamated from several different ratings on Wikipedia), but found that to be a mixed bag. There were experienced presidents who ranked poorly (Nixon) and well (LBJ) and inexperienced presidents similarly (Reagan ranked high, Jimmy Carter much lower). Result: Inconclusive.

Next, I noticed an interesting trend. If you throw out the few elections where strong incumbents were running for second terms (LBJ in 1964 after finishing JFK’s term, Nixon in 1972, Reagan in 1984), in each of the other cases, the POTUS/VP pair with the lower experience score won the election. Result: If that trend holds through this election, McCain/Palin will win.

If you want to do a little more hardcore statistical analysis,

POTUS Standard Deviation: 6.59
VP Standard Deviation: 5.82

Just for sake of argument, this means that Obama’s POTUS score (5.25) is 1.75 standard deviations below the mean, and that Palin’s VP score (3.00) is 1.70 standard deviations below the mean… which means that, per these ratings, Obama is slightly more relatively inexperienced as a presidential candidate than Palin is as a VP candidate. (Only slightly, though.)

Conclusions

Well, this is great data for us dataheads who like to ponder such things. What it really shows, I think, is that there are far more factors that play into the election (and the subsequent job performance) than just experience.

I’ll also conclude that I still haven’t answered the question regarding “how much experience is enough?”. Yes, Palin is the least-experienced VP candidate in the past 50 years. But Obama is also the least-experienced POTUS candidate. Hey, the nature of number is that somebody will have to be least-experienced. So until somebody can give me some quantifiable other measures, I think it’s still gonna come down to gut feel and politics… like usual.

Tags: Election 2008, Nerdy, politics

Did you guys hear that Sarah Palin impregnated her 17 year-old daughter?

Did you know that she did this on orders from John McSame?

Did you know that she gave birth to a child with Downs Syndrome and then compounded the child’s existential pain by naming him Trig? Did you know that that child was used to cover up her daughter’s methpregnancy?

Have you heard that she gave birth to her 17 year-old unwed Downs Syndrome daughter on the infamous Bridge to Nowhere? Did you know that John McCain selected her as his V.P. choice in order to appeal to Hillary Clinton’s unwed daughter and all her friends with Downs Syndrome?

Everything is so sexist right now. Sarah Palin wants to make me pregnant, but I won’t let her. I am completely reasonable.

i’m going to finally go home tomorrow. my sister called and said i had electricity back. the water has not been deemed safe to drink yet, but i can deal with that okay. problem is, EVERY other parish except for Orleans is allowed to go back tomorrow. I-59 is only two lanes wide. i have mapped out an alternate route to get back without using the interstate. we’ll see how it goes. i may be calling people to “go into the map” to direct me back because i don’t have a GPS. i’m hoping to be able to clean out my fridge and go to the store to restock. hopefully walmart will be open tomorrow or thursday. i don’t really have much food at the house, so i definitely need to get to a grocery store.

today i was able to get some free chick-fil-a (we got coupons at the game) and the CFA milkshake i had been craving all weekend. birmingham is not such a bad place, so it has now entered into the options for moving.

i’ll post more when i can. hopefully i’ll have internet back too.

When we were trying to find a house, we ended up making a choice between a smaller house that needed some loving in a good location with nice-seeming neighbors and a slightly larger house where the work had already been done in a slightly more upscale neighborhood where it did not appear we were going to have a lot in common with the neighbors. Obviously (you’ve seen those before pictures of the kitchen, right?) we went with the smaller house with the nicer neighbors and where Mike can walk to work and where we got to choose all the kitchen colors ourselves.

We second-guessed that decision once, about two weeks into this whole process when our house was a disaster and we had spent about 300 hours painting the sunroom. Mike said, “If we’d picked the other house, we would be completely unpacked by now.” But since that moment of weakness, we haven’t looked back. (We definitely wouldn’t have finished the kitchen without help, but that is beside the point. We were both on antibiotics, for one.)

Remember our neighbors who brought us cookies? We’ve been getting to know them. We went and wished their daughter luck before her first day of kindergarten (at Mike’s school), we chat with them in the yard all the time, and we let their kids play with Big Bunny. (Big Bunny is less impressed by this gesture.) This morning, their son was at Mike’s school (he’s still in preschool, so he was there with his mom) and he saw Mike and went over and pulled on Mike’s pants leg to say hi. Stuff like that? Makes us pretty sure we made the right decision.

May I just ask the blogosphere/universe why it is, exactly, that the children of the world love Mike? At church, at school, at random family gatherings, children love him. So much. Me, not as much. Mike says I try too hard. Apparently I am Pam and he is Jim. Help me not try so hard, internet. I just want to be loved by children like Mike is. What am I doing wrong? I play and talk! Should I weave flowers in my hair? Refuse to leave the house without a cloud of beautiful butterflies surrounding me? (Those things are totally normal and not trying too hard at all. Don’t you wear flowers in your hair all the time? Or just when you are surrounded by clouds of butterflies?)

Tomorrow I start recording my bluegrassy/celtic acoustic album. I’ll be producing it with the help of a good friend of mine who’s got a nice little recording studio attached to his house. I’d like to get done with it in a year, but since there’s going to be a lot of arranging and good hard thinking while we’re in the process in regards to the sound, it may take longer. I also want to do as much of the the performance as I can, but want the input of other musicians at the same time. We’ll see. Over the course of the last few years I have come to the realization that my strength lies in collaboration. At least in terms of music and storytelling. I enjoy the process of having input into the creation and mold of a finished project, but also being surprised by the unexpected twists and turns that someone else puts on it that I wouldn’t have thought of if I had 175 uninterrupted years.

So here’s to jumping in over your head!

Or my head, as is the case here.

I am watching the 2-hour season premiere of 90210. Stop judging me. Actually, keep on judging me. I am judging myself. But not very harshly, because I can’t stop thinking about the glory days of 90210. Which I wasn’t really allowed to watch when it was on, but which I definitely watched in syndication. And, oh, the drama. The clothes. The hair. I love it all. Can this new incarnation possibly be as good? I doubt it. And Gossip Girl is already my secret trashy show, so there’s not really room for 90210 in my life. I just couldn’t resist seeing what it would be like. (And, um, so far, it’s really really trashy.)

(Mike is refusing to watch it with me. I think this is because he has slowly been sucked in to Gossip Girl and the greatness of Chuck Bass and he knows he must stand firm on the 90210 issue or it will suck him in as well. However, that did not keep him from being excited for me when Kelly and Brenda were on the cover of this week’s Entertainment Weekly.)

(And I am not even going to tell you about how Alisa let us borrow season 1 of Dawson’s Creek, which has been taking me back to my freshman year of college. Emily and I were in a Bible study then, and I remember that my hall mates and I were always trying to get Bible study to wrap up so that we could go watch the saga of Dawson and Joey. And, of course, Pacey. Am I digging myself into a hole here or what?)

Yesterday Mike and I were looking for olive oil from Greece. My mom brought Mike some olive oil from Greece when she went back in the spring. We thought the fancy Harris Teeter might have some, so we went by there. They have a big section of olive oil, and we spent a while looking at it. Until I said, “You realize that we just spent like five minutes examining the olive oil, right? I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of yuppie.” (Then we left and went to The Fresh Market, where they had the same olive oil from Greece for four dollars less. Four dollars! How can it be cheaper at The Fresh Market!?)

Kelly “I choose me!” Taylor is on the screen!

This is the part of the blog entry where I should defend myself by pointing out that I listen to NPR and watch intelligent shows like 30 Rock and The Office and that I carried my apple core home today so that I could compost it instead of throwing it out at school. But I already told you the olive oil thing, so, between that and 90210, I am pretty sure that you have lost all respect for me at this point. Unless, of course, you are watching, too. Anyone?

It used to be, in my younger days, that I would try to cram too much into a weekend. When I was 20 years old and full of energy, this was not a problem, but these days the engine doesn’t fire as fast as it used to. Nonetheless, I had a pile-up of fun stuff all scheduled for this weekend and I was determined to do it all. And take a lot of naps in between.

On Thursday, Georgia Tech opened their football season against Jacksonville State. I had been eager to try out the 70-200mm f/2.8 VR lens for Nikon cameras so I rented one for the game so I could get comfortable with it for later usage. Of course, there was drama involved. My car decided to dump its contents of transmission fluid along I-75 on the way to get the lens and I had to get the car towed. I was pretty upset and vowed that if I had to replace the transmission, I was selling the car. I wasn’t really ready to buy a new car, but whatever, I was pretty unhappy at the time. Thankfully, it was only a transmission line.

So I made it to the game! And the lens? Is awesome. I will probably rent it again for a future game or concert.

Friday I had just enough time to recover and clean the house for the upcoming weekend. Two of our friends showed up late Friday night for the Clemson-Alabama game. Scott had secured a ticket for me and I was pretty excited to go to the game as it was a sellout and both fanbases were fired up for the game.

I sat in the “neutral zone” between Scott and Carla for the game.

Since I had nothing riding on the game, I had a lot of fun, even though it wasn’t really that close of a game. After suffering through choking crowds on MARTA on the way home, I finally got to sleep at 2 AM.

That’s not all! That’s a full weekend all by itself, but the next morning I was up bright and early for our girls’ first birthday! But if you want to read about that, you’re going to have to jump over to our Family blog.

my sister called me this morning to say she was able to go by my house, and it is fine. the power’s still not back on, and i heard there are state troopers at the LA/MS border keeping people from entering the parish (ie county). the local governments asked if people could stay out till at least tomorrow for them to assess damage and fix things like trees in the road or downed power lines. my plan was to maybe try to go back today, but if i drive 4 hours just to be stopped at the border, i would not be very happy. besides, with no power, i can’t do much plus i had to go to the store, so there’s not much food. if i can get back tomorrow i’ll be able to clean out my fridge and go from there.

Well, the girls know now, so it won’t be long before the rest of the world does.

It seems that the Lord has seen fit to bless us with another little Hubbs kid. No word as to whether Laura and Addie will have a little brother or sister (and we probably won’t find out before hand), but, Lord willing, we will welcome child number three sometime near the end of March next year.

Time to start practicing the zone defense.

Tags: kids

Look at me! I am an anarchist protester!

WHEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Question the system! Down with the fascists!

I DO NOT FULLY UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT OF FASCISM!!!!

Now I am slashing tires of police and news vehicles! UNDERSTAND MY POINT!!

I am wearing a wedding dress. This somehow represents the injusice inherent in the system!

If only my college professor could see me now! He would be so proud!

SCREW YOU DAD! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME!

i made it back to birmingham Sunday afternoon and got back in time to go to church with cj. the church meets in a fantastic old building. it was pretty awesome.

today involved lunch with a group of people i didn’t know, hanging out with someone i hadn’t seen in 6 years, and a birthday party that involved guitar hero. oh, and keeping up on Gustav. i talked with my sister who had stayed, she’s okay. her apartment is okay but without power. she has since moved to my aunt and uncle’s house which is nearby because it has power. something like 85% of the parish (or county) has no power. i’m not sure if i’ll go back tomorrow or not. i asked my sister if she can go by my house (which is REALLY close to her apartment, why didn’t she go by today?!?) tomorrow morning and let me know what’s up. i was able to check my utility company’s website and find out my house doesn’t have power. i’m not THAT worried like i was after katrina, but i guess in this case no news is not necessarily good news.

my parents are having a great time in Tuscaloosa. they had evacuated initially to get up to birmingham, but after drama with traffic (6 hours just to go about 80 miles to start off!), they called me when they got to the tuscaloosa area. i told them to get off the interstate and take a break, and after that, just go to hotels and try to find a room. my mom was trying to reserve one, but i had heard on the radio last week that just going to hotels sometimes helped. they found a room about 15 minutes after we talked, so were all excited to finally have a place to go. my dad called me this afternoon to tell me they found a Five Guys and had a delicious burger. i had told them how fantastic Five Guys was after i had eaten at one in Florida on the youth retreat. they are probably going to go back on Wednesday.

as far as i know, no one i know has had damage to their house. the storm definitely was not nearly as bad, and all reports were of less than expected rain and winds. miraculously, the storm had weakened before it made landfall. i was watching a local news feed over the internet, and saw how the storm was coming in this morning. it was cool to see flood wall additions to their jobs. at lunch, they had a tv on CNN which when i was watching showed a reporter in the middle of a rain squall holding an anemometer upside down. i couldn’t hear what he was saying but it might have been “OMG! you won’t believe how strong these winds are!” i think they wanted levees to break or something. the headline on their website earlier today was a lot different from local websites. oh well, Gustav certainly did not disappoint me!

I read the Chronicles of Narnia for the first when I was 27, which was last year.  One of my favorite books in the Chronicles would be Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  Its this fascinating tale about a trip the main characters take to all these islands, and learn about the kings of old.  There is a cousin named Eustace whose allowed to go on the trip despite the fact that he is an annoyance to all around him.  While on this trip Eustace receives his own, personal encounter with the Lion Aslan.  Eustace, at one point, goes to sleep as a boy and wakes up as a dragon.  He’s this huge, scaly reptile, and none of the kids know what to do.  Eustace is feeling helpless, faithless and fearful.  His only hope is Aslan, because as much as Eustace scratches the scales they don’t come close to shedding off.  Aslan comes along, and uses His lion-claws to cut off the dragon skin.  He throws Eustace into this pool of water, and Eustace is made whole again.  

It’s rather odd to say that I connected with a boy who was turned into a dragon in a children’s book, but I did.  Around the same time I was reading the Chronicles I was experiencing some things being “cut off” and being ripped out of my life.  I didn’t suffer relational losses, or deaths of friends or family.  I did experience a dying to self, and a sense of salvation lost.  Of course I don’t believe, theologically, that you can loose your salvation, but I did loose it in a sense.  God was ripping away all the things I had placed my salvation in:  my theology, opinions, church background, experience, ideas, everything but Christ.  I had surrounded myself, clothed myself, and identified myself more with my career as a Christian (my dragon, if you will) than I did with Christ Himself.  So when those things were being taken away I experienced a sense of salvation lost, but it wasn’t true salvation.  The Gospel is the story of redemption, and the restoration of God’s people to Himself.  Christ is our only hope, and salvation. 

New Skin

By R. D. Helmick

Vr1.

Tears in his eyes

Underneath the moonlight (light)

Tried to shed for the third time

It didnt reach the inside (inside)

Ch.1

The thoughts in his heart had

Transformed his outside

Eustace has become a dragon

A dragon by the sea

Vr.2

Many I have too shed

Will this process ever end (end)

Tears in my eyes

Underneath the moonlight (light)

Ch.2

These thoughts in my heart have

Taken over the inside

I have become like Eustace

A dragon by the sea

Vr.3

Aslan the Lion said,

“I can make you a boy again (again)

You will have to let me

Undress you with my claws (claws)”

Ch.3

The cut went so deep he thought

“It went straight to my heart”

Dark skin was on the ground

And Eustace the boy was found

Ch. 4

I too have seen this Aslan

This lion and His claws

He’s cut away everything

So I can only cling to the cross

He’s cut away everything

So I can only cling to the cross

Tears in our eyes

Underneath the moonlight (light)

“You lived in Antarctica?”  I asked.

“Yeah, for about fifteen months.  You get a little weird after living in Antarcitca for fifteen months”  Faith chuckled as she said this.

“Weird?  How so?” 

“Well, you recognize people by their smell.  You see, there are no smells in Antarctica, because there is just ice and water.”

“So your sense of smell is stronger?”

“Well, there are no competing smells, so you could recognize other people by their smell.  You could also tell people by their walk, and their shuffle.  When you live in such a close community of 200 to 1200 people, depending on the time of year, you become a little weird.”

“Wow.  That is weird and so interesting.”

“Yeah.  One of my favorite memories was riding the cargo boat.  You’re just out there on the water, but the water doesn’t make a lot of noise.  There are these big sheets of ice, and iceburgs that are in and on the water.  It was so beautiful, and there was a stillness there I had never experienced before ever.  Just this peaceful, and quite stillness.”

  ”Faith” is tall, blonde, beauty, a wife, a mother, and full of so many stories like her life in Antarctica and being in a rock band when she was younger.  I have the privilage of working with her sometimes at, and when I see her I take every opportunity to ask her about her life.  When I took a three week May Term class last month called “zoology” I had some frustrating moments.  At the most frustrating times I was asked to sing along to a video, and draw pictures of bugs.  At the most enjoyable moments I was learning about places I had never been like the Galapagos Islands, and, Antarctica.  “Faith” did what class could not do, and that was brought Antarctica as close to me as I can get without going there.

Remember the kingly mattress pad of insomnia? It has been sitting in a giant pile of . . . stuff on the bed in our second bedroom. (Don’t I sound like a wonderful housekeeper?) But since we have finally been unpacking our pictures, I was able to get to one of the blankets we’d used to pack pictures. That meant that we finally had a lightweight blanket for our bed. And THAT meant that I could take the mattress pad, cut off the stretchy parts on the side, and stuff it into our duvet cover. This is about as crafty as I ever get. But it was pretty awesome, I thought! Our bed once again looks kingly. We get kingliness without the insomnia. Not as awesome: Kari wrestling the giant mattress pad of doom into the duvet cover. I won in the end. That’s all you need to know.

On Saturday morning, we went to the Farmer’s Market. As we do from time to time. Maybe I have mentioned it once or twice. When I went last week, I saw Mr. Dodge Lodge Farm and told him that the tomatoes came out great. He said I should bring him some. So this week, I did! Also, he waved at me before I pulled them out, proving once and for all that he does actually know who I am. Except he doesn’t know my name, because I’ve never told him. But that doesn’t matter, because he said that from now on he is going to call me Good Cook. Or something like that. It gets kind of loud at the Farmer’s Market. Maybe he said something more eloquent than Good Cook. The point is, he liked the tomatoes. He hid them under the table so that no one would ask to buy them. I have no idea whether anyone would actually try to buy them, but it was nice of him to go on and on about them. (It worked - we bought our vegetables from him.) (But not any tomatoes. Though he did ask.) They have a CSA program that we are probably going to look into. He might possibly know my name after that.

We also bought something we hadn’t bought before - milk. We switched to organic milk a while back, and a this summer we talked about switching to local milk with no added hormones. But then we never could time it so that we were running out of milk at the right time, so we kept having to get grocery store milk as a stopgap measure. But it finally worked out this weekend that we could buy milk from Homeland Creamery. (Melissa went a couple of weeks ago with her kids, and you can see the pictures here!) You can also get it at some local stores, but not the ones where we usually shop. And, anyway, it’s a tiny bit cheaper to get it at the Farmer’s Market. May I just say, looking at their website really made me want to go and visit the cows.

Mike and I did a lot of unpacking this weekend. We unpacked the teapots, which I cleaned and put on top of the cabinets. He got a lot of pictures out and hung one or two. Some of our rooms are starting to look more homey. But now I need to go and finish putting away the laundry and sweeping the floor so I can cross those things off my list. The only thing I didn’t get to on my list was finishing The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Which I am not so much enjoying. Anybody read it? Am I going to change my mind about it?

I haven’t run since… mid-July. Not only do I feel bad simply from lack of exercise, but running is such a release for me - I’m able to pound out my frustrations and anxiety on the pavement and seek God in those 30-45 minutes of quiet.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I am very goal-oriented. In both my personal and professional life, I work best with structured deadlines. This proved to be very effective in the spring when I ran a couple of 5Ks. It kept me on my feet, pursuing this mean goal of losing weight. So, I’ve marked a race on my calendar. September 20th. I have 19 days to get back into shape so I don’t kill myself in Midtown Memphis. The race is part of a weekend festival that celebrates the Scottish heritage and Presbyterian church. There are even photos of some participants wearing kilts. I love it!

Once I get out there tomorrow and gauge how much ground I’ve lost these past several weeks, I’ll be able to set realistic goals for the race. I’m looking forward to this!

*Quote by Peter Maher, Irish-Canadian Olympian and sub-2:12 marathoner

It’s easy to look at those people — no matter who those people are — and mark up their personal failings. It’s easy because personal failings are always more pronounced and obvious in those people. Especially after the fact.

You can look at those people in light of their most recent transgressions and say, Ah, I see the failing that led up to this calamitous fall. Or, Ah, I always suspected. Or, Ah, I told you so.

There is some value to this, of course, if you examine yourself through and through, if you comb through your own life to find if that same root might one day flower into a full-grown plant, to find if you’re hiding the same sort of bodies in a closet somewhere.

As a leader of a church you can ask yourself how you can prevent your charges from falling into grievous sin. But from a human perspective there isn’t anything you can do. People are good at façades, good at erecting walls and appearing perfect when they are in fact anything but.

Quite a few churches seem oblivious to this fact. It’s non-obvious to them, and probably for good reason. After all, if the intensive study of scripture, if participation in an ancient tradition, if having the right doctrine and presumably the right relationship with God, if the right kind of exegetical preaching with enough emphasis on sin, if these things don’t produce a church full of the proper kind of people, what can? Everyone feels like they should be better; they should be sinning less, they should be doing more, they should be… something. And everyone else looks just like this portrait of the perfect Christian, so we all just pretend.

This happens in every kind of church. Post-modern, modern, ancient, whatever. Because it’s human nature, and human nature is a hard thing to get over.

It doesn’t, of course, have to be this way. The recognition of sin shouldn’t drive people ever more into a world of spackle and paste and paint and fabric, but deep into the arms of God’s grace. The recognition of imperfection should drive men and women to break down the walls between then, no matter what these walls are made of. Whether they’re middle-class suburban perfection, or theological precision, or a pious but empty care for the disenfranchised.

What else do we share? Rich, middle-class, poor: We’re all deeply and entirely flawed. Flawed to the point that each of us, apart from Christ, is liable to fall horribly. Even in Christ we still have that old man nipping on our heels.

I speak from deep within this myself. I am imperfect. I am part of a community of believers who are imperfect. Our leadership is imperfect. Our feeble attempts to draw close to God are imperfect.

But the most important thing, I think, is the realisation, and then the action. A kind of humility that gives grace to those who have fallen, who have done terrible things, whether they are living in rebellion against God or not, and whether they are seeking forgiveness and reconciliation or not.

August 1 - I made and edited a video! And it doesn’t suck! August 2 - We went to see Footloose on stage with a bunch of kids because one of our other kids was in the show. It was fantastic. August 3 - Our care group meeting turned into a 90s rap singalong. August 4 - We [...]

I’ve decided I would like to see some superheroes with powers that I could actually use. I mean, Superman’s x-ray vision? The vast majority of people have nothing that I’d like to see with that power. Spiderman’s ability to spin webs from his fingers? Sounds kind of gross. The Hulk’s super strength? Sure, it would be helpful when I have heavy things to carry, but who wants to go through that many t-shirts?

So, here is my list of superheroes with powers that would help me out in my life.

Captain No-Doze: When John Brewster fell into a vat of caffeine, he soon learned he no longer needed to sleep. Never tired, no circles under his eyes, no need for a quick power nap. He was the envy of new parents everywhere.

The Eraser: Ever do something really stupid? You probably thought to yourself “I wish I could erase that moment.” The Eraser can. She simply erases the memory of anyone involved in her faux paus. Ask someone when they’re due, only to find out they’re not pregnant? Not a problem for The Eraser. In just a moment, the memory is gone.

Metabolism Man: As a chubby but brilliant teen, Chester Butterfinger experimented with ways to increase his metabolism. But one experiment went terribly wrong, and Chester was left with out-of-control metabolism. He has to maintain a constant diet of milkshakes and hamburgers to keep from wasting away. (Okay, I’m not sure how that’s a super power, but I want a milkshake and hamburger real bad right now.)

The Fashionista: Have a fashion emergency? Just call The Fashionista. Armed with an arsenal of stilletos and hairspray, she can turn repugnant to ravishing. A mutant with curling irons for fingers and the ability to crap sequined handbags (too much? I don’t care) she is like your fairy godmother on steroids.

There you have it. From my deranged head to yours. You’re welcome.

Last weekend Sarah and I took an evening to spend a small fortune on a movie. There’s a new theater by our house, and we discovered that high ticket prices combined with lovely decor do not a winning movie-going experience make. The problem was that we elected to see the third installment of the Mummy franchise. Building upon the film making philosophy of George Lucas, these folk decided to forgo ruining a series with prequels and began their descent with the second movie and perfected it with the third. Brendon Fraser as the dad of a college aged son? Sorry, can’t buy it. Though for $17 I should have been given it as well as a large drink. Perhaps some complementary valet parking as well.

I don’t want to ruin this film for you. In fact, let’s all pretend this film doesn’t exist. Instead focus on the drawing of the hitchhiking mummy at the top and pretend that this post never happened. You’ll be much happier that way.

with all the drama of the past couple of days, i’m surprisingly doing okay. the game yesterday was awful. horrible. a nightmare. Clemson’s defensive and offensive lines got manhandled. still though, it was fun hanging out with friends, going down to Gameday, and watching football on 20 different widescreen tvs. also, i was able to get out of the GA Dome without getting into a fight, which unfortunately does not extend to all Clemson fans. some people should just not be drinking at a football game.

as far as Gustav, i just got a call that my parents are leaving. most everyone i know is spread across alabama. i’m going to stay in birmingham until i can get back, which looks like probably Wednesday. i’ll update things when i can. if i get another extended vacation from work, i’ll probably go traveling or something. it’s weird to say i am not freaking out, but having already dealt with a major storm, a glancing blow from another just doesn’t seem as bad. please keep the whole situation in your prayers though.

My oldest friend got married on Saturday, and she asked me to read some scripture in her wedding. It was an honor to participate in the service, because she is such a lovely person, she and her new husband seem so wonderful together, and it was a beautiful ceremony that managed to be both traditional and personal. I did the Old Testament reading, from Genesis.

The Lord God said: “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a suitable partner for him.” So the Lord God formed out of the ground various wild animals and various birds of the air, and he brought them to the man to see what he would call them; whatever the man called each of them would be its name. The man gave names to all the cattle, all the birds of the air, and all the wild animals; but none proved to be the suitable partner for the man. So the Lord God cast a deep sleep on the man, and while he was asleep, he took out one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. The Lord God then built up into a woman the rib that he had taken from the man. When he brought her to the man, the man said: “This one, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; This one shall be called ‘woman,’ for out of ‘her man’ this one has been taken.” That is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, and the two of them become one body.

I know that these are not the most romantic verses of all time, but they are pretty meaningful to me, because Mike really did have to leave his father and mother when he chose me, and clinging to each other is how we survived that and all the other challenges we have faced. So I was happy to read those verses for my friend.

The second reading was from 1 Corinthians 13, which is arguably some of the most beautiful language in the Bible. It’s certainly some of the most well-known. We had it in our wedding, in fact. When the second reader began, I wanted to hide under the pew. Because she? Had a gorgeous voice, complete with an Irish accent. I can’t compete with an Irish accent! I was totally upstaged! Even my own family agreed. Mike said I should have read my scripture in a fake British accent. My brother said, you know, sorry, but that other girl totally upstaged you. My brother’s friend said that after I finished she was like, “Wow, that was nice, great job,” but when the second reader started she was like, “Ohhhhhhh.” So sad. Also, she had on a fancy hat, like she was going to see the Queen. I don’t even own any hats like that. Sigh.

My only comfort is that most of the congregation was from New York and Minnesota. Perhaps my accent sounded adorable to them. Perhaps they were thinking, “Isn’t she just the sweetest little Southern Belle?” Yes, thank you for asking. I totally am.

Here is a picture of me and my friend. I couldn’t be happier for her. She has been a constant friend in my life since I was six years old.

(I had on kitten heels. And she had on real heels, maybe 3 inches? And I still tower over her.)

When I was getting ready for the wedding, I got a little bit sad, because my dad really loved my friend a lot. He did not often go to weddings, but he would have wanted to be at hers. He called her his “other daughter,” and he was always threatening to interrogate the people she was dating. I don’t have any pictures of my friend and her husband, but I feel pretty confident in saying that my dad would have approved of the man she chose, because he is nice and sweet and funny and cares about her a whole lot. So when Mike asked me which tie he should wear, I picked the one that was my dad’s so that he could be there, too.

I keep putting off blogging, because I wanted to do more than just write a second post.  There were few things I want to do to “beef” this thing up so when all two of you who come here to read this it isnt just two posts to read.  However, if I wait until I have the time to post all the entries I want to post before I start to regularly blog again then another year will go by, and another layer of dust will have collected. 

I just moved about a week ago back into my old apartment complex.  Its great to be back here and even though its not the exact apartment I use to live in it still has that familiar, homey smell.  I moved in with a girl from church who somewhat reminds me of one of my old roomamte I had four years ago.  Slender, brown eyed, interesting, sophisticated women who have no clue how beautiful they really are inside and out.  They define in my mind what a young, single, professional woman’s life should look like,   On the outside at least. 

When I lived here four years ago I was just beginning my college career.  It was the Spring of 2005.  I was 25, nervous, scared, anxious, insecure, and doubtful.  Like Moses and the Israelites leaving Egypt, I was afraid God wasnt going to come through for me in this academic wilderness that He called me out to.  I was suppose to work, go to school full time, study, have a life, and pay bills.  I also had to overcome my past and  the belief that I wasn’t good at school, and that I really wasn’t that smart.  I was just sure the worst was going to happen.  I had heard God wrong, I wasn’t cute out for school, and I would fail.

Now I stand at the end of this journey.  Its almost fall of 2008, and I graduate in fifteen weeks.  I changed my majors, changed my address, changed my mind, changed my theology, changed my hair, and now I see a changed heart.  This long season has been full of faithful building and discipline.  School has taken precident for the last four years, and I have died several deaths to submit my will to it.  I have sacrificed, cried, been discouraged, complained, and almost quit several times. 

The reality is it was not really about school.  I mean Ill have a degree in December, and a head full of more knowledge, dreams, and ideas thatI never thought were possibly, but the bigger picture is this.  I am very stubborn, strong-willed, prideful….sinful.  I like to be right, and subtly prove people wrong even when I dont realize that is my motive.  I want my way, my dreams, and my life yet it is not mine.  School has been the holy rod in my life that has broken me before the Lord several times over to bring me to a place of submission before Him.  It’s been one of the most loving times of my life.   Hebrews 12:6-8; 10 says this:

       You have not yet resisted to the point of shedding blood in your striving against sin; you have forgotten the exhortation which is addressed to you as sons, ‘My Son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor faint when you are reproved by Him’ for those whom the Lrod lvoes He disciplines, and He scrourges every son whom He receives’.  It is for discipline that you endure; God deals with you as with sons; for what son is there whom his father does not discipline?……but He disciplines us for our good, so that we may share His holiness.

When people in my past and present encouraged me to go to school I was against it.  They said it would open doors, and get me a good paying job.  I said I couldnt sit in a classroom for four years just to get a paycheck, and college degrees didn’t always mean you knew what you would do for the rest of your life.  In the end I think everyone was right.  College did, and might do what people said it would, but I went out of obedience to the Lord. 

At the beginning of Hebrews 12 Paul gives this great little pep talk about finishing the race appointed to us, to rid ourselves of sinful hindrences, and to “…fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of faith…”  Such words beckon me as I stand on the shore of school, and the waves of homework come crashing against my chest.  It’s one thing to know God changes us, but quiet another to see when He is doing it.  What grace and mercy.  Hope and encouragement.

If you’re looking for a little bit of amusement you could do worse than checking out YearbookYourself.com. It is pretty much what it sounds like it is - you upload a picture of yourself and it gives you some idea of what your highschool yearbook photos might have looked like any year from the 1950’s through the 1990’s. I had a little bit of fun this afternoon.

For reference, here’s the picture I gave it to work with:

Here’s my 1962 yearbook photo. My face is a little oversized in this one, it didn’t work quite as well as I’d hoped.

Here’s 1968.

Here’s 1970. This is definitely my favorite.

Most of the rest of the 70’s didn’t work out too well because of the hair it tried to put on me. So, we fast-forward to 1984. Now, this hair isn’t that great, either.

By the time we get to 1988, it starts to get to something almost believable…

And then here’s 1994. I started my senior year of high school in 1994. The scary part: I had one of those cardigans, and I loved it.

Tags: Memes, photos

One thing that I have come to appreciate about our community group is the fact that all of the adult men are older than I am. That means that they have a perspective on my life and the stage of life that I am in that makes their input and advice particularly valuable. Their experiences and wisdom have been encouraging and challenging to me, and I’m not sure that I looked forward to meeting in a small group like this since my year in East Asia.

I appreciate their presence in my life, and their prayers and just being able to spend time with them at community group and on Saturday mornings. God has truly blessed me with them. I will miss them greatly when we move.

I saw this letter from Digital History on another blog. Jourdon Anderson, an ex- Tennessee slave, declines his former master’s invitation to return as a laborer on his plantation, 1865. I am posting it because Jourdon Anderson was the epitome of a Southern gentleman, and in being so, showed Colonel Anderson for exactly what he was.

Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865

To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee

Sir: I got your letter and was glad to find you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Col. Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again and see Miss mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville hospital, but one of the neighbors told me Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here; I get $25 a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy (the folks here call her Mrs. Anderson), and the children, Milly, Jane and Grundy, go to school and are learning well; the teacher says grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday- School, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated; sometimes we overhear others saying, “The colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks, but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Col. Anderson. Many darkies would have been proud, as I used to was, to call you master. Now, if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free- papers in 1864 from the Provost- Marshal- General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you are sincerely disposed to treat us justly and kindly- - and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty- two years and Mandy twenty years. At $25 a month for me, and $2 a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to $11,680. Add to this the interest for the time our wages has been kept back and deduct what you paid for our clothing and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams Express, in care of V. Winters, esq, Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night, but in Tennessee there was never any pay day for the Negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up and both good- looking girls. You know how it was with Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve and die if it comes to that than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood, the great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

P.S. — Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant,

Jourdon Anderson

Source: Cincinnati Commercial, reprinted in New York Tribune, August 22, 1865.

(That might be the greatest P.S. of all time.)

Today I was looking through my pictures from my trip to Ethiopia in March of 2007. I haven’t traveled internationally since then, and I’ve been itching to go. And looking at those sweet little faces made that itch even more pronounced.

Sometimes, it’s easy to get bogged down in my work. To stare down deadlines. To get entirely too focused on where an apostrophe goes, or what a transition between paragraphs should look like.

But all it takes is one look at those sweet faces. And worries about commas and deadlines are replaced by their stories.

Stories of hope and perseverance. Stories of faith and diligence. Stories of unbreakable bonds between a mother and her child.

And it is then that I realize the worst thing I can do is to lose focus of why I do what I do. I don’t do it for the bylines or for the praise. Because if I did, I would have already given up. I do it for them.

I do it because they need an advocate. They need someone to tell their stories. They need someone to respond to their need. They need. So I write.

yesterday at work was pretty good. i’ve been working on this one calculation for about a week and a half, but i’m still not well versed with the analysis world, so i was having to ask a lot of questions. yesterday afternoon, i was finally able to get help from my supervisor and it was like the light came on. i was able to get what i needed to done and send out an email before i left with the results i found. it was kind of awesome.

also yesterday, i was getting directions to birmingham to meet CJ later today in preparation for Clemson/Bama tomorrow. i plugged in the addresses on google maps, and noticed a little camera icon by my address. i clicked and MY HOUSE IS ON GOOGLE MAPS! apparently the google mobile drove through and snapped photos in my neighborhood. (i wish Paris was my neighborhood) i saw that they pretty much did the whole NOLA metro area. i thought it was pretty cool.

i need to go finish getting some stuff together. i have my stuff ready for this weekend, but i’m also going to be bringing some stuff over to my aunt and uncle’s in case that Gustav guy shows up while i’m gone. the models are shifted more to the west, but i can’t completely trust them. still, i feel a little better than i did yesterday or a couple of days ago. just hope i can get home early next week.

also, today marks 3 years since katrina. i don’t feel nearly as weird as i did the two previous anniversaries, and in fact it seems like such a long time ago. the attitude with Gustav’s mostly “we know what it can do, we’re doing what we have to. however, we also know how bad things could get, and we’re ready for them.” it’s kind of cool to see people have confidence and not in a panic.

TOMORROW IS GAMEDAY! OMG WTF BBQ!

It took me for-ev-er to read this book. I kept putting it down, and also there were things like the Olympics and the DNC and being sick and being tired from going back to work that kept me from reading as much as I normally do. I am glad I stuck with it, though.

After moving from California to Hampden College in Vermont, Richard finds himself taken in by small, wealthy group of students who study Greek together. As Richard gets to know them better, he discovers that they have a secret. As he falls deeper and deeper into their confidence, their fear of discovery leads them to kill one of their own.

The first part of the book is setting up the things I just told you - Richard’s relationships with the five of them and how their friendship leads to murder. (This is all told on the inside jacket and in the first chapter, so I am not spoiling anything by telling you that.) The second half, which I liked better, was the fear of discovery. I liked how the walls were closing in around them, the sense of dread that permeated the pages. The question is, will they be discovered? And even if they aren’t discovered, will it have been worth it in the end?

The last hundred pages had twists and turns that had me actually gasping out loud, and because of that, I would say that this one is worth a shot. I think it would be a decent choice for a book club discussion because of the characters and their relationships alone. The first part is slow, but the payoff, for me at least, was worth it.

Wild Goose Chase, the latest book by pastor Mark Batterson of National Community Church in Washington, DC, sets out its’ premise in the introduction:

The Celtic Christians had a name for the Holy Spirit that has always intrigued me. They called Him An Geadh-Glas, or “the Wild Goose”. I love the imagery and implications. The name hints at the mysterious nature of the Holy Spirit. Much like a gild goose, the Spirit of God cannot be tracked or tamed. An element of danger and an air of unpredictability surround Him. And while the name may sound a little sacrilegious at first earshot, I cannot think of a better description of what it’s like to pursue the Spirit’s leading through life than Wild Goose chase. I think the Celtic Christians were on to something that institutionalized Christianity has missed out on…

With each chapter in the book, Batterson then calls the reader to “come out of the cage” of one encumbrance or another, sharing anecdotes from his own life and those he’s come into contact with in his ministry, and then finishing up each chapter with an example of the principle that he sees in the life of a biblical character.

I was unimpressed when the introduction, and indeed, the whole premise of the book, seemed to be based less on some Scriptural principle than on a single phrase from Christian antiquity. And my concerns were deepened when I looked at the chapter titles and subheadings:

• Goose Bumps: Coming Out of the Cage of Responsibility
• Dictatorship Of The Ordinary: Coming Out of the Cage of Routine
• Eight-Foot Ceilings: Coming Out of the Cage of Assumptions
• A Rooster’s Crow: Coming Out of the Cage of Guilt
• Sometimes it Takes A Shipwreck: Coming Out of the Cage of Failure
• Good Old-Fashioned Guts: Coming Out of the Cage of Fear

While there are some good points to be made in the book from time to time, it really feels to me that Batterson wrote the self-help, motivational principles of Wild Goose Chase and then looked to find bits and pieces of Scripture to support his points… which is a dangerous way to teach the Bible. In addition, Batterson’s style of writing is unimaginative, cliché-ridden, trying too hard to be cool and trendy. Color me unimpressed.

After finishing up Wild Goose Chase, I felt like I had just sat through one of those exercise infomercials where ridiculously-toned models and cheesy announcers hype their transform-your-life product ad nauseam for 30 minutes late at night. What I came away longing for was something more solid, stable, and reliable - something more analogous to a Ken Burns documentary on PBS. So I’m sorry, Multnomah, I just can’t recommend this book. My friends, if you’re going to buy a book on living the Christian life, get something by Eugene Peterson instead. You’ll be glad you did.

As requested, I’ll link to Amazon: you can buy Wild Goose Chase there. But I’d suggest you pick up something else instead.

Tags: Books, Reviews

The crowd gathered, the band came on, the crowd squished together and the rain began to fall. This was the scene when Radiohead came to Vancouver. I’ve never been a hard core Radiohead, but have enjoyed a lot of their songs. This was my first Radiohead concert, so I was eager to see them, as it’s been 5 years since they have been in these parts.
Radiohead had an interesting stage with organ pipes dangling around them and the ever changing light show, but for Radiohead it’s about the music. They’re a band that is not so high in entertainment, but more in letting sense their soul through the music.

During some of the more mellower songs I could hear the rain falling around, which was kind of weird. Keeping close with everyone around me I didn’t notice the rain too much although I finally took my glasses off as they kept steaming up.

At one point the crowd on one side was getting pretty rowdy and Thom had to remind them they were not at a Rage Against the Machine concert.
Radiohead had come out for their second encore and had played 24 out of their 25 song set and I had yet to hear Paranoid Android. Thom asked the crowd if they wanted to hear Idioteque or Paranoid Android, I am glad the crowd agreed with me. And when we awere all singing ‘rain down’ it seemed very appropriate. A nice way to end the show.

Despite the rain, Radiohead still put on a fine show even without the entertainment.

Here are a few pictures from the concert.

This is after the show as the crowd was dispersing.

Family

• Zoë started kindergarten last week.  The initial separation was difficult for her (surprisingly . . . first day of preschool last year was easy), but when we came to get her, everything was great.  She’s really enjoying it, and already doing well, academically and socially.  Amy and I are sending her to a really good Christian school, but we’re not anti-public school or anything.  We’re just anti-THESE public schools around here. (They’re… not good.)
• I still like being married.
• It’s reported that Amy likes it, too

Church

• Things are going well.  We’re planting another Grace Central congregation (with a view toward even more over the next ten years). Folks are being gathered, forming relationships, believing the Gospel, serving eachother.  It’s cool to see Jesus work in and through people.
• Greg has been preaching through the book of Ezra, which is just what we need to hear at this stage — the story of God rescuing his people from exile, and then working through them to build his temple.  He’s doing the same now — his temple now known to be his people, the Church.
• (Feel free to subscribe to Grace Central’s podcast to hear these sermons, by the way.  Maybe you’ll want to come join us! The iTunes link is here, or you can subscribe manually here.)
• I’ll be preaching my first sermon (ever) at Grace Central some time in the next few weeks.  Please pray for me as I study and prepare to deliver God’s Word to his people.
• Home groups are starting back up in a couple of weeks after a Summer hiatus. We’re looking forward to that.

Tech

• I’ve been enjoying Ubiquity, a new experimental extension for Firefox. The best way I can describe it is that it’s like Quicksilver, but for your browser. You should just watch the video and try it out for yourself. It has the potential to change the way we browse.  Seriously.
• We got an Xbox 360 a few weeks ago.  I’ve actually been using it as a media extender (thanks to Rivet and a Linksys WRT54GS w/ DD-WRT firmware — in bridge mode) almost as much as I’ve used it to play games.  The ability to watch HD video podcasts on our TV rather than on my Macbook’s screen is pretty darn nice (not to mention streaming the iTunes library to the TV, as well).
• (My Xbox LIVE gamertag is raekwon00, by the way. Add me as a friend!)
• I added an Airport Express router to our home network (this is in addition to the Airport Extreme and the aforementioned Linksys).  This little thing is fantastic for extending your network’s range or creating a dual-band 802.11n/g network.  It’ll come in handy if I’m ever again in a hotel with wired-only internet as well.

Music

• I wish I had something to report here. I need some new tunes. Suggestions?

Sorry to be so complain-y. But it’s been that kind of week. SUCKY THING THE FIRST The Hills! It’s so bad this season, y’all. Now I know what you are thinking - it has always been bad. And you are right. But it’s always been more awesomely bad than just bad. Now? Just bad. Boo. SUCKY THING [...]

so i’m starting to enter ryan adams fanboy mode. i’m reading everything i can about the tour and the upcoming album. i’m even going to the TM pages for the shows i went to just to see what kind of tickets could be bought now. i was poking around on ebay for different things today, and decided to do a search for RA tickets. i came upon this auction (linky linked). these seats are next to my seat for the Tuscaloosa show. literally, i have seat 14. guess i’ll have something to ask my concert neighbors about when i get there.

in other news, work today was long. i’m back in the deep end of the pool as far as what i’m doing, and i’m trying my best. it just feels like i’m spinning my wheels. tomorrow should be a good day though, and i’ll have things taken care of before i go out of town this weekend, and vacation/evacuation since Gustav still wants to come here on Monday.

best line of the day….i asked “since when are hurricanes named with Russian names?” my friend Kenny said “well, if it’s Russian, it’s going to go to Georgia.” it was fantastic political humor at 7:52 am. unfortunately, it does not appear to want to go to Georgia…..yet.

We have fire drills and tornado drills, but what do you call it when there’s an actual fire or an actual tornado? When I was in high school, someone set some kind of fire in a bathroom (the details have become somewhat fuzzy), and what we called it was, “Everyone get out of the building and then stand in the rain for hours and then come back into the building and shiver for the rest of the day because the radiators can’t be turned on.” (Huh, seems like some of THOSE details aren’t exactly fuzzy.)

Today, a tornado touched down near my school, and as we emphasized that, no, it was not a drill, I learned that what we actually call it is “tornado lockdown.” I was actually kind of impressed with this phrase. It sounds so official and makes the idea of everyone crouching by the wall in the tornado position seem so much less silly.

Of course, it didn’t seem silly at all when the tornado siren started going off. I don’t have a lot of tornado experience - we get tornadoes here, but certainly not like other parts of the country. I remember there being a pretty serious tornado warning when I was in elementary school and that we spent a couple of hours crouching by the wall, but I don’t remember hearing the tornado siren. In fact, I am not sure I have ever heard a tornado siren. It was surreal when it went off, because it’s something I have read about but never actually experienced. And I was okay when it went off the first time, but when it started going off the second time, I actually got a little bit scared. We spent an hour in tornado lockdown. I am very thankful that everything turned out okay, and that no one was hurt, but I would be lying if I said that hour in the tornado position didn’t take a toll on all of us. Not to mention the extra hour we all stayed at school because the buses couldn’t run until everything was safe.

That’s where Mike comes in. Let’s start with yesterday, when he drove me to my class so I wouldn’t have to walk in the rain, came home, made chili for dinner (he claims this is not a soup), and came back and picked me up. Today he drove me to class again (because I was going to be late late late without his help, thanks to the extra hour at school), picked me up after class, and let me cry on the way home. This is why he’s my hero - saving me from a downpour, holding my hand as I cry in the dark. It was a long day, and I am more than a little bit overwhelmed. Let’s all hope for a more normal day tomorrow. (Please.)

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!

When listening and reading Kennedy’s nomination acceptance speech at the 1960 Democrtic National Convention, it is actually somewhat freaky how relevant his words are today.  I think Obama could take the speech and swap “terrorist” for “communist” and “McCain” for “Nixon” and almost read it word for word.

Well, except for the part where he calls his opponent young.

This part gives me chills.

Perhaps he could carry on the party policies, the policies of Nixon and Benson and Dirksen and Goldwater. But this Nation cannot afford such a luxury. Perhaps we could afford a Coolidge following Harding. And perhaps we could afford a Pierce following Fillmore. But after Buchanan this nation needed Lincoln; after Taft we needed Wilson; and after Hoover we needed Franklin Roosevelt.

But we’re not merely running against Mr. Nixon. Our task is not merely one of itemizing Republican failures. Nor is that wholly necessary. For the families forced from the farm do not need to tell us of their plight. The unemployed miners and textile workers know that the decision is before them in November. The old people without medical care, the families without a decent home, the parents of children without a decent school: They all know that it’s time for a change.

We are not here to curse the darkness; we are here to light a candle. As Winston Churchill said on taking office some twenty years ago: If we open a quarrel between the present and the past, we shall be in danger of losing the future.

Give it a listen.

I would like a few things.

• Move the “Create a New Filter” link to toward the top of the page. I end up with a lot of filters and I don’t really want to scroll down all the way to the bottom just to make a new one. Or put a link at the top and the bottom. There’s no reason it can’t be in both places at once.
• Under the “Reply” pull-down box, place a link to make a filter from that sender. This is a lot easer than, say, copying the email address, going to filters, making a new filter, pasting the email address, etc.
• For Google Apps, could we perhaps get a “Global Filter” type page or something to mass-manage email? There are quite a few message types I would prefer no-one receive, and I don’t have time to modify each account.

Thanks!

Do you have Convention Fever?

Have you been watching the wall-to-wall coverage on cable? Are you crotch-deep in balloons? Have you been watching pundits so long that the professorial George Will has begun to resemble sturdy Midwestern rocker George Thorogood?

If the answer is yes, your diagnosis: Convention Fever. Your prescription: suicide.

My face has broken out in hives and my skin has grown gray and clammy in what I fear to be Convention Fever. I have sent word to ol’ Doc Taft to make haste in getting here, as my heartbeat is growing shallower with each American flag straw hat sighting…

Folks, be sure to check back in tomorrow, when I liveblog my death.

seriously….come on, i’m going out of town this weekend. at least the computer models shifted more westward today. if they keep moving then it’ll be fine. i don’t want to have to evacuate/go on vacation, that would suck. right now the plan is to come back Sunday, but now it looks like that’ll be too late. argh.

on the way home today, chad and thomas were talking about boarding up their windows in case the storm came this way. they asked me if i was going to board up my windows, but i told them no, because i’ve had worse things happen to my house, and the windows just aren’t that important.

i’m really not that worried yet, for now it’s more an inconvenience.

I do not, myself, like icebreaker sorts of things. It brings out the middle schooler in me, the part that doesn’t like joining things, the part that is still afraid that people will point and laugh, the part that struggles with sincerity. When, in my college classes, we have to do icebreakers, it is hard for me to resist rolling my eyes. It’s not that I think I’m too cool for icebreakers. It’s that I think I’m not quite cool enough, that no one will be interested enough in me to want to break the ice. That people will think it’s silly if I participate too much. So I hang back and try not to let myself seem too invested. (Also, I don’t like silly games that have no point other than breaking the ice. Let’s come up with an actual way to break the ice for a change.)

I like to watch the students when they do icebreaker activities, to see how their personalities come out. This one hangs in the corner, acting much like I always feel. That one dives in fearlessly, asking questions of all his classmates. This one goofs off, that one works steadily. I don’t have kids (or particularly maternal instincts), but from time to time I am unexpectedly moved to see them discovering who they are, taking risks when they would rather hang back, eschewing a sense of safety in order to get involved. I want to take them aside and tell them that it doesn’t do any good to keep worrying about what people think, and that they should jump into these activities with as much abandon as a child joyously jumping into a puddle. But I know they have to figure those things out themselves, so instead I simply say, “Are you finished? Then have a seat.”

Well, yesterday was the first day of school around these parts. As usual, the day was replete with seating charts, syllabi, and sorrow.

Teachers tend to feel much the same as students on this day, and I was no exception. Throughout the early morning hours I found myself contemplating my career choice with no small level of anxiety. However, as the wide-eyed, frightened 12 year-olds began streaming into my homeroom, I felt something begin to build inside me. Slowly and unstoppably, a overwhelming strength began to surge through my veins, and I once again felt at one with my role in the universe.

My insatiable power over these 7th graders built as I began to shout frenzied and arbitrary commands at them, thus disorienting their command structure and rendering their defenses useless. Like Emperor Palpatine in Revenge of the Sith, I raised my arms in glorious victory and howled in an unearthly voice, “UNLIMITED POWAAAAAHHHH!!!”

Also, I proctored a study hall.

I want to plug a DVD player directly into a monitor. Anyone have any experience with this sort of thing, any product recommendations?

Today will be spent and nigh upon wasted in the acidic belly of that coffee belching beast. Five hours that cut out the heart of my day, and tomorrow, four early morning sunless hours that cut the heart out of my mood. Normalcy will return on Thursday, I hope, as least much normalcy as can be expected from my adventure intensive life, which has neither contained much adventure nor intensity of late. But, any day now I fully expect some tall bearded old man to knock his knotted walking stick against my door and barge in followed by a throng of short, stout-looking men and whisk me off there and back again on some adventurous deed.

Until then the only question that truly remains unanswered is, “would you like room for cream?”

Hello, internet. It’s been a while. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. My grandma passed away last weekend after a two week stint in the hospital fighting a variety of infections and organ failures before her body just couldn’t take it anymore. So I spent all of last week at my parents’ house in [...]

Wolfgang Puck Chicken Tortilla Soup

I know nothing about Wolfgang, maybe he once was on Food Network? My only frame of reference for him is seeing him on my grocery store shelf selling soup. Nothing really struck my fancy till I was house sitting and saw that they had some of his soups. They told me to help myself to whatever, so I helped myself to some his Chicken Tortilla Soup. I figured since it was a mexican style dish that Id grill up some quesadillas to go along with. There are few things in this food life that I lead that is much better than this folks. Maybe not Wolfgang Puck’s version every time, but how have I not had tor